


where your truth lies

by Windmire



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Background Ezor/Zethrid - Freeform, Canon-Typical Violence, Happy Ending, M/M, Unreliable Narrator, temporary major character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-07-24 10:18:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 58,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16173089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windmire/pseuds/Windmire
Summary: "I think the lions can show you some of your memories. At least the ones their paladins were around for."Shiro glances between him and the statue. "Okay," he says. "And what's going to happen if I look at those memories?""Hopefully? It'll shake the rest of them loose."Shiro doesn't remember much of anything when he wakes up in the abandoned Castle of Lions. What he does have is a bone-deep certainty that there's someone hehasto find, someone waiting for him.The problem is he's literally fading away the longer he goes without his memories. And his only hope seems to be the man who finds him in the castle, the Red Paladin, who seems to have forgotten almost as much as Shiro has.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So here's my love letter to Sheith: the fic that ended up taking over my brain so much I just _had_ to exorcise it.
> 
> I swear I just wanted a reincarnation AU. But credit where credit is due! I've loosely based this on a visual novel with a "amnesiac protag is shown the memories of a spooky house in order to remember everything" premise, though somewhere along the line I think influence from Madoka and even a little of FFXIII got in the way, oops.
> 
> And a special, special shoutout to my dearest, dearest friend Carmen. Without your encouragement and terrible influence, this fic wouldn't exist at all. So. Thank you!!!

Through the haze of smoke, through the unbearable heat of the explosions, a hand reaches out for him. He reaches back for it, straining as far as he can, but it's _just_ out of his reach, and the fingers slip through his own.

The ground under him tilts further. He can't get a good grip on any of it, can't seem to find purchase anywhere, no matter how hard he tries. And the smooth surface only slips away from his scrabbling fingers as he slips closer and closer to the edge.

"Shiro!"

With great effort, bracing his forearm on the ground, he lifts his head.

From this new angle, he can _see_ the owner of that hand--the one who called his name--face twisted in agony, blood pouring down the side of his face over a fresh burn as he desperately reaches for him.

His heart squeezes in his chest. He can't do it. He's not going to be able to reach for that hand. And he's never felt more regret in his life for anything. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

Understanding dawns quickly in those bright, bright eyes, then denial. "No. _No_ , no, you can't. You're going to be fine, just... Just hold on a little longer, okay? I'll go to you, you don't have to do anything. You just--"

 _No_. No, the platform is too unstable under him. If one more person gets on it, there'll be nothing he can do to keep him from falling as well. And he knows, sure as anything, that he'll just launch himself after Shiro, given the chance.

"No!" he gasps out. "I can make it back up there! You can't come down here, you'll--"

He barely has time to register the sound of another explosion before the world upends itself.

"Shiro... _Shiro_!"

The scream follows him, ringing loudly in his ears as he loses his purchase and all he can see is smoke in the distance, thick enough to blot out the stars above him.

That voice calls after him again and again, growing more and more agonized each time.

But he falls and, as the voice changes--at times, desperate and pleading, tearful and angry, or softly, like a prayer--it all slips away.

-

There's something nagging at the back of Shiro's mind when he wakes, something he's sure he needs to grip tightly while he still can. But as awareness comes, as he tries to hold on tighter to whatever it is, it slips through his fingers like sand.

In its place comes the sensation of lying flat on a hard surface, the air around him cool enough to bring up goosebumps along his skin.

Carefully, he blinks his eyes open and the blurred shape that materializes in front of him slowly comes into focus. He doesn't even remember to be startled when he realizes what he's looking at. Or rather, _who_.

A man is crouched beside him, hands on his knees and face close to his own. And it's a face he doesn't recognize, but one he doesn't think he'd ever forget--dark hair, bright eyes, and a scar cutting across his cheek, over skin that's far, far too pale to be healthy.

Something tickles at the back of his mind again at the sight, something he can't name. But it melts away when the man speaks.

"You're finally here," he says, the rough sound of his voice breaking the eerie stillness around them. There's an incredulous note to the man's voice, though his face remains unchanged as he reaches out a hand, letting it hover somewhere above Shiro's jaw.

Shiro tries to speak, but only manages to croak out something that might pass for a _What?_ , if one were generous.

The man snatches his hand back, his lips turning down in a frown. "You're here," he says again, slowly this time.

Apparently, he is. The only problem is... Shiro has no idea where _here_ is.

Something of it must show in his face, even if he can't quite seem to make his mouth form words yet, because the man's frown just grows deeper.

"Do you know where you are?" he asks hesitantly and Shiro can only shake his head in answer.

It's the wrong thing to say.

The man rises to his feet, brow furrowing, revealing a long cavernous room behind him.

(For one wild moment Shiro wants to reach out and smooth out the dip between his eyebrows and wipe away the frown there.)

"Do you even know who you are?" the man asks now, when Shiro makes no move to say anything else.

Shiro licks his lips, and freezes. He can't. He doesn't know if he can answer that question.

He casts his mind back, to where he was before this, to where he should be, where he lives, _anything_. But it's like throwing himself against a wall. A jolt, pain shooting up him, then nothing.

"My... My name," he manages to say, grasping at the one thing he can seem to hold on to. "Shiro." But when he tries to reach for his full name, hell, even his age, it's that same jolt all over again.

He sees realization dawn in the man's eyes, seeming more resigned than anything. Then he steps forward, reaching out a hand. "Come on," he says, gruff. "Welcome to the Castle of Lions."

Shiro blinks at the man's bare hand for a moment, before he shakes himself and reaches out with his left hand. He suppresses a shiver when their hands meet, at the cold, _cold_ skin that meets his own.

Just for a moment, he thinks that maybe only someone _dead_ would be that pale and that cold. But he pushes the thought away. It brings up an unpleasant heavy feeling in his chest and. Besides. The man is standing right there, living and breathing in front of Shiro.

It's just his imagination.

The man doesn't immediately let go of him, instead turning a considering frown down to their joined hands.

Shiro follows his gaze, a feeling he can't identify welling up in his chest when he catches sight of them. He blinks down at them, surprised to find that he's only slightly surprised to find it's just _one_ hand he's got, rather than two.

He clenches his jaw, then relaxes it again. He hadn't even noticed any kind of imbalance there.

Something else he can't remember. But that's becoming a pattern.

The man lets go of his hand then and takes a step backward, pinning Shiro with an inscrutable expression. "I'm the Red Paladin," he tells Shiro without preamble. "And you're the Black Paladin."

Shiro blinks. Exhaustion still pulls at his limbs and it takes him a moment before he can wrap his head around what he's hearing.

And it still doesn't make sense.

"I'm sorry," he says carefully. "I don't know what that means."

"Don't apologize." The man--the Red Paladin, and it certainly fits with the red and white armor he's wearing--bites his lip. "You really forgot everything again..." He breathes out a sigh.

Shiro shakes his head. "Again?" He tries to cast back again, to find _anything_ about where he was before all of this, but only gets that same jolt in his brain again. But it's like that jolt flips a switch this time, setting his heart racing.

So he steps forward, bridging the gap between him and the Red Paladin again, placing his hand on his shoulder before he can think better of it. "What do you mean again? Did you know me before this? You have to know what's going on here, right?"

"...You could say that."

" _What_?"

The Red Paladin looks away, the beginnings of a scowl on his face. "It isn't the first time you've been back," he says quietly. "It's just the first time it's taken you this long."

There's something small about the Red Paladin's voice then, and it manages to temporarily knock every single question and demand out of Shiro's head.

"Have you been alone here all this time?" he asks before he can think better of it, startled to find those are the words that come out of his mouth.

The Red Paladin turns his gaze back on him, eyes widening. "That doesn't matter."

"Of course it does." When the Red Paladin still hasn't moved to shake his hand off, Shiro squeezes lightly at his shoulder. "Have you just been stuck here waiting for..." He breathes in, an idea striking him. And one he can't say he likes much, at that. "Waiting for... for me?" It should seem ridiculous, someone he doesn't even remember waiting for him in a gloomy place like this, but.

 _You're finally here_. That's what he said, isn't it? He hasn't forgotten that already.

"I was waiting for you," the Red Paladin admits at length, that same furrow between his brows again. He does step away from Shiro's hand this time. "But I told you. You've been here before. I wasn't..."

"How long ago was that?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. Years? Decades? Longer than all the other times."

Shiro stares, sure he must have heard wrong. "Decades," he says slowly, looking the Red Paladin up and down. There's a lot Shiro doesn't remember right now, but he's sure this man can't be any older than somewhere in his twenties. "How old are you, exactly?"

But the Red Paladin only raises a shoulder in another shrug, voice oddly distant as he says, "It doesn't matter, I don't know. It's been a long time." Before Shiro can speak again, he changes the subject, nodding toward the darkened room behind him. "There's probably a way you can remember everything. If you want to try it."

"Yeah." Yeah, of course he does.

"Then... It's just deeper in here. Come on." The Red Paladin steps back, turning around, and Shiro gets his first good look at the room they're standing in.

It's dark, gloomy enough to feel abandoned, but it's some kind of hall, wide with high ceilings, like the entrance hall to a fairy tale castle. Huh. Castle of Lions is probably an apt name, then.

Hardly the kind of place he should be exploring with a stranger who claims to know him, but he doesn't exactly have a lot of options. Or much context to make any kind of decisions with, for that matter.

All he's got is the Red Paladin's word and the slowly unfurling tug in his chest toward the man. Maybe it's curiosity, maybe it's just wanting _anyone_ to talk to, but it's all he's got at the moment.

He looks up in time to watch the Red Paladin pull a light from his pocket, little more than a glowing cube, and without looking at Shiro, step forward.

But...

Something still doesn't feel quite right.

Nothing feels quite right.

"Hey." Shiro steps forward to stop the Red Paladin, hand on his arm.

The man in question freezes, looking up at him over his shoulder with wide eyes. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice slightly less steady than before.

Shiro lets his hand slip away and rubs the back of his neck. "Stop me if this is too personal for you, but is there something else I can call you besides the Red Paladin? If we're going to be going into this place together, I should probably call you something else."

The surprise drains out of the Red Paladin's eyes, only to be replaced by confusion. "I'm the Red Paladin," he says, as if he were pointing out something that should have been obvious. "And you're the Black Paladin."

"Call me Shiro. Please." He breathes out. "But yeah. Yeah, I got that. But you've gotta have a name, right? You can't be the Red Paladin all the time."

"I'm the Red Paladin," he repeats, like Shiro's just asked something painfully obvious. "I don't..." He shakes his head. "That's just who I am, I'm not anyone else."

"But--" Even _Shiro_ knows his own name right now. If the Red Paladin claims to know more than him about this whole thing, how could he not know his own name?

"Come on," he says gruffly, already turning toward the staircase, his flashlight held high. "The castle's big. We shouldn't sit around if we wanna get anywhere."

Shiro bites back the words at the tip of his tongue and follows after him. He has time. He's sure he can have a proper conversation with the Red Paladin once they've reached their destination. For the moment, he can focus on getting a better feel for his surroundings.

Especially when he does have a castle to explore, after all.

Not that it's looking particularly inviting at the moment. It's impressive, to be sure, but every hallway, every single stairway the Red Paladin leads him down is just as dark and desolate as the hall he woke up in.

He cranes his neck, trying to get a better look at the doors left ajar to even dimmer rooms around them that the Red Paladin just brushes past with single-minded purpose. He thinks he makes out what might be a long table in one of those rooms and another, sturdier-looking door in the center of another, but there's little else he can make out through the gloom.

Besides the occasional spiderweb, he supposes. But there's less of them than he'd expect from a place like this.

Though maybe it shouldn't come as a surprise. It's not an air of decay that surrounds him as he walks behind the Red Paladin's sure steps. It's an air almost of... stasis, he thinks, like whoever dwelled in the castle just stepped out for a moment, leaving it poised and waiting for their return.

Shiro grimaces. It's not actually a particularly pleasant feeling to be immersed in, not quite oppressive, but as if he were poised and waiting just as much as the castle.

"This is a pretty big place. What happened to everyone who lived here?" he finally thinks to ask.

The Red Paladin shrugs and doesn't turn back to look at Shiro. "Gone, I guess. They all left or died," he says quietly. "It was a long time ago."

Shiro pushes back the question of just how long it was behind his teeth. That didn't get him very far the first time he tried it.

"But why?" he asks instead. "If you said I've been here before--" And that's still more than a little bizarre, something he can't quite properly wrap his head around just yet. "--Then there have to have been other people here for a while, right? Why did no one ever come back? Or stay?"

The Red Paladin is silent for long enough then that Shiro begins to wonder if he even heard him at all. But the man's speaking before he has a chance to repeat his question. "None of them would've wanted to come back anyway." He hunches his shoulders, the movement small enough that Shiro almost misses it, and goes on, "This castle's supposed to be cursed." And it's so far from what Shiro expected that it takes him a moment to even process the words.

"What?" he breathes.

The Red Paladin sighs. "Everyone who comes here's supposed to die." He shakes his head. "Or just have a really, really bad time before they die somewhere else, I guess... It's not an exact science, as far as I can tell."

Shiro swallows. It's not quite the jolt of when he tries to recall his past, but the fuzziness that tries to settle over his brain at the mention of a curse is no less unpleasant. "Except you and me?"

"No," the Red Paladin whispers.

Then he's quickening his steps, practically taking the steps of the next staircase they descend two at a time.

"Wait!" Shiro blurts out after him, quickening his own steps to match. "What are you talking about? What's--"

 _What's happened to you here?_ he wants to ask, wants to yell out at the Red Paladin's tense back and hunched shoulders, a strange heaviness settling over his heart.

But the words get stuck in his throat.

Lucky for him, the Red Paladin stops before a set of sturdy-looking doors. His back is still turned to Shiro, but it's clear enough that he's waiting for him.

"Please," he says, slowing his steps as he approaches. "What did you mean _no_? What happened the last times I was here?" _Why can't I remember the last times I was here?_

"I don't know if it really matters. There were people here and you were one of them. Then there weren't any people here except for me, mostly."

"And they all just left you here?"

"It doesn't matter."

And there's something about the Red Paladin's voice then, an edge he can't quite identify. But it has Shiro grimacing.

Shiro takes in a deep breath, gathering himself. "Look. If you don't want to talk about any of that right now, it's fine. I know I kind of just burst in here and don't even remember you anymore. And I'm sorry for that."

It's meant to be conciliatory, backing off somewhat when he feels he's pushed a little too far. But rather than ease anything, the line of the Red Paladin's shoulders goes even tenser at that.

Slowly, he turns to face Shiro again. And the unhappy expression that greets him just _pulls_ at his chest, sudden and unexpected.

"No," the Red Paladin says before Shiro can manage to gather himself again. "Don't apologize, it's okay. You didn't do anything wrong. You're going to remember and then... you'll know."

"You're really sure I can remember?"

"Yeah. I'm hoping." He shifts on his feet, eyeing Shiro carefully. "You really don't remember anything this time? No names? No nothing?"

"Just my own name." And not even his full name, at that. Cautiously, he tries to think back one more time, metaphorically poking against the wall he keeps running into. "I kind of feel like there's something I'm almost remembering, but it's not much to go on. I just know there's-- There's someone I need to find," he says suddenly, just as the knowledge slots itself into place in his very heart. It feels _right_ , in the way nothing else in this place has so far. "I have to find someone."

Far from looking pleased, the Red Paladin responds with an odd, even unhappier curl to his lips that makes Shiro almost want to take back every single word. "Are you sure? You weren't looking for anyone the other times you were here," he says slowly.

He's never been surer of anything in his life. "Yes."

The Red Paladin nods. "Then I guess maybe you'll remember who they are once you get your other memories back."

"Maybe it was someone you knew," Shiro says, trying to make it into a joke. "Maybe it's just right in front of our noses."

"Maybe. But it's been a long time. I don't know if you'll..." He trails off, staring at a point past Shiro's shoulder. Then, with a shake of his head, he holds his flashlight up high and pushes the tall doors open.

It's darker, somehow, inside the room the Red Paladin leads him into. Much larger, too--maybe even larger than the hall he woke up in--judging by the way their footsteps echo across the smooth floor.

The light from the Red Paladin's flashlight cuts a path for them, but he can still make out little more than the floor and brief glimpses of faraway walls. But the Red Paladin's destination, when they approach it, is more than clear even in the dim light.

Looming large over them, like some sentry even the castle itself has forgotten, the sight of it is enough to make Shiro's breath catch in his throat.

A statue. Made of a clear crystal, a hint of green to it.

"The Green Lion," his guide says simply.

"I don't understand," Shiro breathes, shaking his head. He holds out his hand, letting it hover inches from the statue looming large over him and the Red Paladin.

"The Green Lion," he tells him again, as if it were obvious. "She's..." In the dim light of the flashlight, he thinks he almost makes out the Red Paladin biting his lip, before he shakes his head. "She's asleep right now. And the Green Paladin isn't here to wake her up. But... I've spent a lot of time thinking about it, and I think the lions can show you some of your memories. At least the ones their paladins were around for."

Shiro glances between the Red Paladin and the statue. "Okay," he says, though he doesn't quite understand just what most of that means. "And what's going to happen if I look at those memories?"

"Hopefully? It'll shake the rest of them loose. You knew the Green Paladin, so even if your bond isn't with _her_ , the lion should recognize you."

"Okay," he says again, softer this time. It's all still a bit much, still a lot of information to process at once, but he thinks he's beginning to see what the Red Paladin's getting at. He doesn't really get how these lions work, not just yet, but it seems like a solid enough plan to him.

"So do you want to do this?" the Red Paladin asks him then, and Shiro's eyebrows fly up to his hairline.

Of course he does. Right now, he'd like nothing more than for things to begin to make even the slightest bit of sense, at least enough for him to figure out just who he needs to find. But it's nicer than he'd have expected, to actually be asked.

"Yeah, of course," he says, with every bit of confidence he does and doesn't feel. "Though I am wondering something, if you don't mind me asking."

A quizzical little tilt of the head is all he gets in answer.

So Shiro licks his lips and pushes forward. "You said you were here before. When I was, right? You can't tell me about any of it yourself, can you?"

By way of answer, the Red Paladin lowers his flashlight, shining it straight at Shiro's arm. And at his first clear glimpse at himself out of the darkness, Shiro's blood runs cold.

The light goes right through his arm, like he's not fully corporeal. Like he's not actually there, little more than a ghost that only the Red Paladin can see. If the Red Paladin isn't a ghost himself, or if. If the Red Paladin is even _there_ , if he isn't just the last hallucination of a dying man, and--

"--Shiro."

The voice cuts through the jumble of his thoughts and, taking a deep breath to gather himself, he nods and looks up into the Red Paladin's face, twisted strangely in an expression he can't quite make out in the dark.

"Sorry," he tells Shiro. "I know how it's got to look. Sorry I should've... I probably should've warned you first." He crosses his arms, the light mercifully moving away from Shiro's arm. "It's going to be okay, all right? You've just gotta remember it all by yourself or you won't be _here_ , you know? You've gotta..." He huffs out a breath. When he next speaks, his tone is almost plaintive. "I can't explain it that well. But if you don't remember it on your own, you won't be _here_ again. You'll just be..."

"Stuck like this?"

The Red Paladin nods. "I'm sorry. I don't think this was how I wanted things to go."

And that's some pretty interesting wording. But he doesn't get the chance to ask about it.

Because the Red Paladin raises his flashlight high again and, with his free hand, reaches out to touch the statue. The second, the very instant, his fingertips press against the front of the statue, it _lights up_.

A brilliant green glow fills the room, bright enough that Shiro has to squeeze his eyes shut. Even through his closed eyelids, he can still see as it grows brighter and brighter, until finally, it dims enough for him to open his eyes again.

That's when the Red Paladin lets out a surprised huff, when another, _different_ light begins to fill the room.

Shiro's sure his jaw has dropped, but he can't seem to make himself snap it shut when he sees the light, dimmer and much farther ahead in the room, but still an unmistakable bright yellow.

"I take it there's a Yellow Lion," he says numbly, once he manages to pick his jaw up off the floor.

"Yeah," the Red Paladin says, voice barely above a whisper. "I guess he wants to help, too."

"What does that..."

"I don't know. But the Yellow Paladin was there, too, I guess. I just didn't think he'd..." He pauses, visibly shaking off his surprise, and presses his hand more firmly against the Green Lion, a small smile curling at the edges of his mouth. "Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Shiro says, and raises his own hand.

Moments before his fingers make contact with the statue, he glances over at the Red Paladin. Bathed as he is in the green and yellow light, his dark hair falling over his collarbones, it strikes Shiro then.

The Red Paladin is beautiful.

But that's the last clear thought he has before he makes contact with the Green Lion and the floor drops out from under him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And three little things before I finally stop talking!! Two are things I debated on putting in the tags and ultimately decided not to, because they're so small they felt like false advertising. But I still felt I should at least mention them. Still, if you don't wanna know, please do skip the last two points!
> 
> 1\. This fic is like. 95% done and the 5% is just editing and filling in a few unfinished scenes. So unless rl gets hectic or I go totally off the rails and expand on everything a ridiculous amount, updates should be fairly consistent.  
> 2\. Like in canon, past Adam/Shiro. It's a tiny thing, barely worth mentioning imo, but there is a flashback of a sort.  
> 3\. As for Lotor/Allura, however. While it will be discussed and certain characters will expect it, it will not actually happen. Sorry!
> 
> And if you got this far, thank you for reading! ♥


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... did not actually mean to update only two days after, oops. I'm thinking of maybe updating once or twice a week from here on out, but... maybe not every other day lmfao. But in any case, thank you so much for all the comments and kudos for the first chapter! It was all absolutely lovely to see <3
> 
> Just as a little heads up, because this kind of thing always throws me off, too, haha. The narration/Shiro will _temporarily_ think of Pidge as Katie here. Just temporarily, promise.
> 
> Borrowing a few planet names from Mass Effect here, too, because, hey, why not.

He's not sure what he expects to see when he opens his eyes again. Maybe he's meant to see the Green Paladin right off the bat, whoever she is. Maybe he'll see the Red Paladin as he was when the Green Paladin was in the castle. Maybe he'll see _himself_.

What he doesn't expect is just... him. Not in the distance, not through someone else's eyes, just Shiro. In his own body.

He clenches his hands and slowly releases them.

 _Hands_.

No, that's not quite right. It's not just Shiro in his own body.

When he looks down, he finds two arms attached to his body, the right one made out of a dark metal he doesn't recognize. And, perhaps most important of all, though he's standing in a small, bright room--a bedroom, it looks like, little more than a bed in a recess in the wall and empty space in front of it--he seems fully solid, nothing but a hint of blue veins under the skin at the crook of his left arm to point at anything in, through, or under him.

Shiro swallows. He can't even begin to guess at what this means. "Are you still there?" he whispers.

"Yeah," a voice somewhere behind him says. The Red Paladin.

He whirls around to face him, only to find him already there and staring straight at him. He opens his mouth to speak and immediately snaps it shut, his eyes widening when he catches sight of the state the Red Paladin's in.

 _He's_ the one who barely looks corporeal now. In the bright, fluorescent light, he looks almost fragile, little pinpricks of light poking through. _Like he's made of starlight_ , a little part of his mind whispers.

He realizes, even as the thought crosses his mind, that it's probably a strange thing to think about a person.

"I thought I was supposed to see my memories that the Green Paladin was around for," he says, watching the Red Paladin's face carefully. "What does _this_ mean?"

He should be patiently waiting for an explanation and nothing else, he knows this. But in this light, he realizes he was right. The Red Paladin _is_ beautiful. The scar cutting across his face, almost to his eye, somehow manages to bring the rest of his features--especially those eyes--into sharp relief in a way that has Shiro's heart skipping a beat.

He wants to trace his fingers along that scar.

But he tamps it down. That's even more inappropriate of a thought.

If he notices Shiro's staring though, the Red Paladin says nothing about it. He just shrugs, his eyes wandering across the room. "It means it worked better than I hoped for. The lions are making thing things easier for us."

He doesn't understand. "Why?"

"I guess they just like you that much," the Red Paladin says with a hint of a wry smile, before he sobers again. "I don't know. There's still a hell of a lot no one knows about the lions. But it's probably better this way for you."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"You're going to be seeing your own memories through your own eyes," the Red Paladin tells him like that explains everything. And, in a way, he supposes it does.

"All right." Shiro pinches the bridge of his nose, and isn't even startled at the cold press of metal against his skin. "I was going to see the Green Paladin's memories of when I was here. But now I'm... living them?"

"Pretty much."

"That's _really_ good, then, right? I'll get my memories back a lot faster that way?"

The Red Paladin bites his lip. "Yeah, it's just--"

Whatever he was about to say is interrupted by a loud crashing sound from the other side of the doorway, loud enough to make Shiro start. And absolutely not jump a foot in the air.

" _Matt!_ " a voice yells out, loud enough that Shiro can hear it clearly from inside the room. "What is _wrong_ with you, give that back right now!"

Shiro looks between the Red Paladin and the door "I should..." He shakes his head. _Focus_. "I should check that out," he says, more firmly this time.

"They're your memories. I don't know if you have a choice once they start for real. Just... Shiro." The Red Paladin makes an aborted movement, as if he'd been about to reach out for Shiro, before he crosses his arms again. "You should know. The castle moved around a lot, we're in another planet now. And... this planet didn't have a happy story."

"Right. The curse." One way or another, everyone he remembers here will end up dead, whether he witnesses it or not. A hell of a thing to think when he's just going in. "I understand."

"I'll..." The Red Paladin shifts on his feet. "You're going to see another version of me, but I'll be here, too." He looks up at Shiro through his eyelashes. "Just in case."

Shiro swallows. "Thank you," he says and, after another bout of yelling outside the door, a male one joining the one from before this time, he presses his hand against the wall panel and steps outside.

He's not quite sure just what he was expecting to find in the hall, but as the door slides shut behind him, he freezes, face twisting into a mask of confusion.

There's two people tangled up on the floor, the smaller of the two holding the other one in a headlock. Said smaller one, a young girl with a long ponytail, tightens her arms around the other one and growls, "So how about you shut up and _give it back_ , Matt."

The bigger one, Matt, presumably, only laughs, the sound a weak, wheezing thing. "No way, Katie. It's mine fair and square now. Make your own!"

" _I made that one_ , you stupid--"

"...Uh. Guys?" Shiro asks, hesitantly raising a hand.

As one, Katie and Matt turn to look at him, their eyes widening in identical expressions of surprise.

Siblings. They have to be.

Katie practically jumps away from Matt, scrambling to her feet and smoothing down her sweater. "Great! Just great, Matt! Now we've got the--" She cuts herself off, looking up at Shiro with narrowed eyes. "Who are you again? You're human."

Matt, who's picking himself up at a much slower pace, rolls his eyes. "Probably just one of the new guys they picked up from Earth," he says before Shiro can speak. "What'd they drag you all the way to Zaherux for? Security work? Cleaning crew?" He wiggles his fingers in front of him. "As a test subject?"

"Very funny," Shiro says, a small smile on his face. He doesn't actually know the answer to that question, he realizes, and he almost considers turning right back around and finding the Red Paladin again, but his mouth moves without his permission. "Security work, actually. I hear there's some pretty nasty monsters on this planet sniffing around this facility and that this bunch of scientists aren't really equipped to deal with them."

"Figures." Katie shrugs.

"Guess that's just what happens when you start melting the all the ice in an arctic planet," Matt mutters, but Shiro barely hears it. Or the way Katie smacks his arm.

Just seconds ago, he didn't know any of that. He thinks he understands now just what the Red Paladin meant about not having a choice once it started.

He's not fully in control, he realizes, a sinking feeling in his stomach. All of this already happened, it's just...

All of this is just his memories. He needs to keep reminding himself of that.

"A-anyway," Katie says quickly, flashing him a grin. "Does that mean you talked to your boss already? 'Cause I don't think Prorok likes it when his people are late."

It's a pretty clear dismissal, and his past self must have realized it just as quickly as he does now, because he sidesteps away, his back to the hallway and hands raised in front of him. "Hey, it's just my first day! I'm still figuring out my way around this whole castle," he tells them with a smile.

"Besides," he says before either of the maybe siblings can speak. "It kind of looked to me like you guys had a situation going on. Anything I can help with?"

Matt snorts. "Us? Help? Nah, my little sister tries to kill me all the time!" He grins. "Pidgeon's just mad I swiped some communicator, no big."

" _Some_ communicator?!" Katie seems to grow to twice her size, the way she practically puffs up as she rounds on Matt. " _My_ communicator that _I_ built, Matt, you jerk!"

"I'm just saying that we can improve it! That's all!"

"I think I know what I'm doing."

"No, no, listen! Look at this." He pulls a thick, green square out of his pocket, flipping it over in his hands. "You see this here? If we tweak _this_ just a tiiiny bit, we can--"

Shiro laughs, softly, under his breath, and lowers his hands as he backs away from the siblings. "You know what, you're right. I should go. Stay out of trouble though, all right?"

Katie turns a skeptical look on him, but nods nonetheless. "Same to you, I guess."

By contrast, all Matt does is wave without even looking up and call out a "See you around, man!"

It isn't until he's halfway out of the hall where Katie and Matt's argument is quickly turning into an excited discussion that he stops to wonder.

Is one of them the Green Paladin?

-

Security work in Zaherux turns out to be exactly what they talked about outside his room. Prorok turns out to be an unpleasant enough man, who sends them all out to deal with the large, furred monsters crawling out of the icy depths of the planet to threaten the people in the castle turned research facility.

Simple, if dangerous work that leaves him too exhausted at the end of each day to spend too long thinking about what memories he's supposed to regain or the Green Paladin, much less the Yellow one. Not that his body would be able to do much about it whenever he wanted.

He's still stuck in the motions he made years ago, in a time and planet he can't even remember.

Luckily for him, what he ends up doing is rarely not what he feels he would have done in each situation and it certainly helps make the whole experience much less bizarre.

Though the castle itself is the most bizarre part of it all. It's... _alive_. Bright, with all the machinery in it a constant hum in the background, and people constantly coming to and fro at all hours of the day and night. He could get up right in the middle of the night cycle and still spot someone crossing a hallway or resting in a break room, a far cry from the dark, gloomy place the Red Paladin led him through.

Every once in a while, he does catch a glimpse of the Red Paladin near him, as starred and incorporeal as before, but only ever inside the castle. No matter how much he keeps an eye out, he can never see hide or hair of him when he's outside it.

It's an interesting question to ponder when he lies down to sleep during the castle's night cycle. Just how he's connected to all of this. He could ask, try to dig for information, but he doubts the Red Paladin would be any more forthcoming than before. Not when he thinks Shiro's ability to stick around is tied to his being able to remember everything on his own.

Instead, he gets a clue on something else entirely, two weeks after his arrival at the castle.

He's wandering past one of the smaller rest rooms, meant mainly for security personnel, when he hears a new voice.

"Look, I'm just telling you. If you can't get a message out to your planet, it's probably just the interference from the snowstorm. Honest! Just give it a couple days and, trust me, it'll be right as rain." The voice pauses and, when he speaks again, there's a nervous edge to it. "N-not that you've gotta stop trying! I-if you wanna. I'm sure you'll, like, definitely reach 'em if you go up that high. Yep..."

Shiro pokes his head into the room, only to find Throk--one of the few Galra working on the security team--glaring down at a dark-haired human in the otherwise empty room. A human who's slowly backing away from Throk, at that, pushing his fingers together nervously. "Seriously!" he says. "No big, you don't have to listen to me or anything!"

"I swear, you humans are all the same. Buncha know-it-alls and--"

Shiro steps properly into the room and opens his mouth to tell Throk to back off, when another voice beats him to the punch.

"Leave him alone," a rough voice cuts in, enough of an edge to it to raise even Shiro's eyebrows. "You don't like his suggestion? Fine. Go freeze your behind off up in that mountain."

The newcomer stares off against Throk and it's all Shiro can do to keep _breathing_.

The Red Paladin. It's the Red Paladin. His hair's shorter, barely past his chin at the front, and he's not wearing his red and white armor, but it's _him_ , in the flesh.

With one last, disgusted look, Throk turns around and pushes past Shiro and out the door, leaving him alone with the Red Paladin and the other man.

It's the latter who notices Shiro first. "Whoa. Oh my god, I am so sorry you had to see that," he says, shaking a hand in front of him. "Throk's just... You know, he's just..."

"An ass," the Red Paladin finishes for him. And it's only then that he looks up, catching sight of Shiro where he's still hovering awkwardly just inside the doorway.

The Red Paladin's eyes widen, his jaw dropping. Then he smiles, small but sincere and _happy_ , and there's color to his cheeks now, to his lips, and it's. It's beautiful, it's _dazzling_. He wants to look at that smile every day for the rest of his life, he thinks inanely.

It's nothing like the hesitant looks the Red Paladin's been giving him before this.

He closes the distance between him and Shiro, the other human practically forgotten. "Shiro!" he says, and even his tone of voice is completely different. "You're here! When'd you get here?"

And there's so much Shiro wants to ask him now, as much as he wants to answer that question. So much he _needs_ to talk about with this man who's so different than the one who's been silently with him this whole time.

But he can't. And it takes a moment for the reason to drift back into his mind once again.

This is a memory. He's not in control here.

Even now, he can feel the Red Paladin's--his Red Paladin's--presence somewhere behind him, quiet as a mouse, but much more present than usual. Another mystery he probably won't be able to explain until he remembers on his own.

"Sorry, do we know each other?" is what he ends up asking, and he can only be grateful that his voice comes out friendly enough.

The Red Paladin still freezes though, yards away from where Shiro's standing and Shiro can just about see when understand hits him, too. "Right." He shakes his head, glancing down at his feet. "Sorry, I've heard about you and I guess I got kind of carried away," he mumbles. It's a lie. Even he can tell the Red Paladin isn't a particularly good liar, but the past version of Shiro seems to accept it readily enough.

He just smiles at the Red Paladin. "Don't worry about it. But it'd probably help if you told me your name, too."

The man smiles in return, and though it's dimmer now, it's a smile that feels like it's all just for _Shiro_ , and says, "Right, my bad. Uh. Pleasure to meet you for real. My name's--"

But the moment his lips begin to form his name, the world goes... strange. The sound comes as if from a distance, distorted, like being submerged underwater.

Shiro blinks. He opens his mouth to ask the man to repeat himself, but all that comes out is, "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, too," like he never missed a beat in the conversation.

He wants to sigh, long and loud, but his body only claps the Red Paladin on the shoulder, drawing another, startled, smile out of him.

"And, uh, I'm Hunk?" the other man in the room speaks up then, and Shiro can't help it.

He laughs. "Sorry about that. I guess we got a little wrapped up there."

"Hey, it's cool," Hunk says, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. "You guys work in the same team or something?"

"I don't know. I don't think so?" Shiro says, just as the Red Paladin, seemingly recovered now, says, "Kind of?"

"Uh." Hunk looks between the two of them, a slight frown on his face. "Riiiight. So which is it?"

"I'm not in security," the Red Paladin says smoothly. He's not smiling anymore, but there's still something lighter about him than the other version of him. "At least, not like him. I just make sure no one gets killed inside the facility." He crosses his arms and, before Hunk can ask the question clearly written across his face, asks, "What about you, big guy? Come to think of it, I don't actually know what you do here."

"Me?" Hunk waves a hand in a nervous little gesture. "I'm just one of the engineers here, no big. Nothing like... Heh, the guys keeping us all from killing each other in here or being, like, polar bear food or anything."

"Polar bear food," Shiro deadpans.

"Uh, yeah? Have you seen those things out there? Totally just a buncha murderous polar bears and whatever." He looks up at Shiro, his eyes rounding in surprise. "Not that you're not doing super important and super dangerous work with them or anything! They just... Look kinda cuddly." He nods toward Shiro, as if conceding a point. "And murderous. I'm just here with the machines."

Shiro snorts and, when he looks up at the Red Paladin, finds him holding back a smile.

"I think you do a lot," the Red Paladin says softly. "You're keeping the _machines_ from killing us, right? Probably keeping the Holts from getting us all killed, too, right?"

Shiro raises an eyebrow. The Holts. That's not the first time he's heard references to them, though they're usually in hushed whispers, like the speakers are afraid of saying the name too loudly.

And Hunk must feel the same way, judging by the way he goes tense all over. Shiro gets the feeling people don't usually just bring them up like this. "You could say that," he says carefully. "I'm kinda friends with one of them, you know? The younger one? She's not so bad. Not really trying to get us all killed or anything! She's just..." He grimaces and, in a lower voice, "You know. You know what happened."

The Red Paladin hums in answer. "Yeah. Guess I do."

"B-but I should go," Hunk says suddenly, and it's clear he's had just about enough of _that_ line of conversation. "I've got, uh... Places to be. Numbers to crunch. Y'know, right?"

"Yeah, of course," Shiro says, friendly smile on his face. "It was nice to meet you, Hunk."

"Yeah, you, too, Shiro," he says with a little wave and a, "See ya around, man!" at the Red Paladin.

Then there's just the two of them in the room and Shiro...

Shiro swallows. He doesn't quite know what to do with a Red Paladin who's so different. Even his past self seems a little at a loss at someone who's so inexplicably familiar with him.

The Red Paladin makes the decision for him.

"Are you settling in okay?" he asks Shiro, voice kinder than it was even moments ago.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm great! Every day that a cuddly polar bear doesn't kill me is a great day!"

The Red Paladin snorts. "Glad to hear it. Wouldn't want to lose the new guy to the zoo animals already."

Shiro can't remember if he's ever actually been to a zoo. Judging by the way his face settles into polite confusion, he's guessing his past self never has either.

He doesn't dwell on it though. He just watches as the Red Paladin turns to face the doorway, looking up at Shiro quizzically. "You coming? Or did you get the whole tour already?"

"...Yeah." He blinks. "Yeah, I got the tour. But I, uh, could've missed some things?"

The Red Paladin smiles again and Shiro's heart thumps once, hard, in his chest. He can't tell whether that was all him, all his past self, or all the both of them, but either way...

That probably spells trouble.

It's different, now, walking side by side out of the room with the Red Paladin, rather than trailing behind him through a dark, unused castle. He's better able to get a good look at those eyes and the long lashes that frame them, at his lips chapped from the cold, at the little marks and scrapes on his face and arms that point at a life spent crawling through the bowels of the castle, doing whatever it is that his job implies.

No.

This definitely spells trouble. Of the type that he can't afford to borrow and which would definitely, definitely be overstepping his bounds with a man who's only trying to help him.

Or the past version of him. He doesn't know.

Was it in this castle that he and the Red Paladin first met? Was it here that they formed whatever friendship or acquaintanceship it is that's got the man helping him?

But... No. He already seems to know Shiro here, though Shiro doesn't remember him. Was there something even before that?

Crap. He can't even begin to guess at it. What he'd give to be able to just ask.

"You looked a little confused by the Holts," the Red Paladin murmurs at him.

"Kind of," he answers. "But I'd gotten the impression people don't really like talking about them."

"They don't."

"You mind if I ask why?"

The Red Paladin gives him another one of those little smiles and lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "I was gonna tell you anyway. Figured it'd be kind of unfair if you're the only one who doesn't know. And if..." He shakes his head. "Have you met Matt and Katie ? They're kind of difficult to avoid."

"Actually, yeah," Shiro says as they round a corner, past the hallway that leads to the training rooms. "I found them fighting outside my room my first day here."

"They don't usually mean it," the Red Paladin says, tracing a hand along the wall.

"Yeah, I got that impression. Are they the Holts?"

"Half of 'em. Their parents have been researchers here as long as both of them have been alive." It's a simple enough statement, but the way his voice goes lower, hushed at the mention of the elder two Holts, says more than anything else probably could.

"What happened to them?"

"Their mom's fine. But their dad got taken away. To Central Command, they said. Something about how his skills were too important to stay in a backwoods planet like Zaherux. I'm sure you know how it goes in some planets."

He doesn't. But he thinks it's all beginning to come together anyway.

"And I take it Mister Holt didn't have a say in the matter?"

"No." The Red Paladin stops abruptly, at another intersection in the maze of hallways, and his voice is rougher this time, tight. "He didn't. None of his family did." He lifts his head to look Shiro straight in the eye. "It's been six months and it's still the first and only time a researcher's been taken from Zaherux."

"Now everyone's wondering who's next..." Shiro mutters.

"And one of his kids is on the warpath."

Katie. It has to be, from the way he and Hunk talked about her.

"Okay. So my question is. You tell me it's probably unfair if I don't know, but no one else seems to care if I do or not. So why tell me anyway?"

The Red Paladin looks away, seeming to deflate somehow. "No reason. Just kind of feels like I should." It's only half an answer. He bites his lip. "And, I dunno. Maybe you should be careful? The Galra've got a real close eye on the little sister right now."

This man's a terrible liar. It just gets more and more obvious every time he tries.

He finds he doesn't mind that he's lying to him right now at all though. It makes everything that he told him when he first woke up in the castle easier to swallow, somehow.

The question is just what he's trying to convey this time, like this. That he should help Katie? That he should avoid her?

He wishes he could ask.

 _We know each other somehow, don't we? That's why you're telling me?_ he wants to ask. He wills himself to ask, pouring every inch of his determination and focus into it.

But his past self doesn't even suspect it, beyond a moment of confusion at the initial greeting from the Red Paladin and how talkative he became once out of Hunk's sight.

It's maddening. It's like he's pounding on glass, yelling for the people on the other side to hear him. It's frustration--heavy and stifling--that settles in his chest, he realizes, for the first time since waking up in the castle.

"Anyway." the Red Paladin nods behind him, at the hall opposite to the one Shiro needs to take. "This is me, I've gotta go. I just figured you should know, in case any other scientists go missing." He gives Shiro another one of those small, heart-stopping smiles.

"Yeah." Shiro nods. "Yeah, I'm glad to know, thank you."

"Good night, Shiro," he says, already turning away.

"Good night--" And it's his own mouth, his own voice, saying the name. But the world still pulls away from him for the second it takes him to say it.

Maddening.

-

The other Red Paladin, _his_ Red Paladin, is already there in Shiro's room when he enters it.

He's perched on the desk, just as half-incorporeal and star-studded as before, looking as if he's been waiting for Shiro.

And, he realizes the second the door slides shut behind him, Shiro's _himself_. Just like when he first arrived here, when it was his own thoughts and actions that were controlling this body, he's in control again. He can only imagine that something about the Red Paladin's presence must have triggered it again.

"You're back," he says, and immediately has to keep himself from cringing.

Yes. Everyone currently in the room can see that he's back.

But the Red Paladin only raises amused eyebrows, the corners of his lips twitching in what's not quite a smile. "I haven't left." He shrugs. "I'll show up as many times as you ask."

Shiro's heart skips a beat, his face flushing.

Is that... Is that who he is? Someone so lonely even a promise like this is enough to get him flustered? He can't understand the reaction. But he pushes it away as quickly as he can, forcing himself to focus on the situation at hand.

"I thought I'd seen you a few times," Shiro says instead, moving to sit down heavily on his bunk. It may not exactly be his current body, but he sure still feels every ache and pain again. Including ones he'd really, really like to ask someone who actually knew him during this time about, he thinks as he rubs at the sore spot between the prosthetic and his right bicep. "I think I even met the past you this time."

"Yeah. I saw." The corner of the Red Paladin's mouth hitches up just the slightest bit higher. 

"I met that guy... Hunk, too. It was nice what you did for him. I'm just sorry I wasn't fast enough to help."

But rather than any kind of recognition, what he sees in the Red Paladin's eyes is a detached sort of bemusement, like he's trying to humor Shiro, but still has no idea what he's referring to.

It's an indulgent look. And hell if that isn't yet another bizarre layer to this whole thing.

"Hunk," the Red Paladin says, as if testing out the name. "He's someone who worked here, too?"

"Yeah. I think I saw when you first met him. Or when you first really spoke to him, I suppose," he amends. "It sounded like you both knew Matt and Katie, too."

"Matt and Katie," the Red Paladin repeats blankly.

Oh. His heart skips a beat for an entirely different reason this time, one he quickly tries to smother.

Has the Red Paladin been forgetting things, too, besides his own name? Does he even realize he's forgotten things, too?

Shiro resists the urge to bite his lip. It has been a long time, he reasons. Maybe however many decades it's been has been enough to make the Red Paladin's memory a little fuzzy when it comes to names. "It's fine," he says. "You'll probably remember them when you see their faces again."

He doesn't point out the fact that, if he was there when Shiro met the past version of him, he should have seen Hunk's face, at the very least.

This is something he's going to need more time to think about.

"Did you remember anything though?" the Red Paladin asks him, brushing aside the question of Hunk, Katie, and Matt.

Shiro tightens his fingers around the bedsheets on either side of him. That might be something else he's been trying, and failing, not to think too hard about. Because...

 _No_. If he stops and thinks about it... no. He's seeing the memories. He's living through the memories and going through the motions. But it's like a story someone else is telling him. Nothing's quite clicking with him. Nothing's coming loose.

And the worst part, maybe, is that he's not even sure how or if it's all supposed to click.

"I don't know," he settles for saying diplomatically. "I'm seeing it, but I'm honestly not sure how I should be remembering any of this."

The Red Paladin nods slowly, head tilted in such a way that Shiro can't make out the expression on his face. "That's fine, I guess. We'll figure it out. We still don't know a whole lot about how the lions are trying to do this. Maybe... Maybe you just need to go through your whole time here?"

"Maybe." He hesitates, then mentally shakes himself. It's a little too late for that kind of thing. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

The Red Paladin looks up at him, expression so sweetly puzzled that Shiro has to mentally shake himself again.

Inappropriate. And he's still got someone else he should be focusing his energy on, even if he doesn't remember his name.

"Of course not, Shiro. What is it?"

Shiro steels himself. He can't even begin to guess at what kind of answer he'll get to this. "Why couldn't I hear your name?"

But, if anything, the Red Paladin only seems more confused, with that furrow between his brows again and the last hints of that smile disappearing into a frown. "What?"

"The other you introduced himself to me." Shiro waves a hand in the vague direction of the hallways outside the room. "But I couldn't hear it. It's like it just slipped right past me."

The Red Paladin leans forward heavily on his hands on the desk. "I don't get it. I already told you my name."

"You told me you're the Red Paladin."

"Yeah," he agrees. "And that's my name."

"But there was another name he told me," Shiro says. "I just couldn't hear it."

"But that doesn't make any sense," the Red Paladin insists, his voice wavering just the slightest bit on the last word. "He-- _I_ can't have told you another name, because I don't have another name. The Red Paladin's just who I am."

"Are you sure?" Shiro asks gently, though on the inside his guts are squirming. He pushes himself off the bed and, slowly, cautiously, approaches the desk the Red Paladin is still sitting on, his toes just barely brushing against the smooth tiled floor. "Everybody's got a name."

The Red Paladin's silent for several long moments, his eyes fixed somewhere around Shiro's left shoulder. When he doesn't make any move to pull away, Shiro gingerly sets his left hand on his shoulder.

It doesn't go through him. His shoulder's solid and warm under Shiro's palm and Shiro lets his fingers curl around it. "I know I've forgotten a lot of things. Including you, and it has to be a lot to take in," he tells him when the Red Paladin lifts his face to meet Shiro's eyes. "And I can't tell you how grateful I am that you're trying to help me remember." And he takes a chance. "But if you've forgotten anything, too, you know that's okay, too, right? I know it's been a long time."

But the Red Paladin only raises his eyebrows. "Thanks. But I'm fine, don't worry. It's just a lot of people." He looks away and sighs. "I should go anyway. You've got a lot to do again tomorrow."

"Hey, wait--"

The Red Paladin gives him another one of those tiny smiles, and the lights flicker. Then he's gone. Like he was never there in the first place, Shiro's hand closing around empty air.

He clenches that hand into a loose fist. "I don't know what you did, but I'm pretty sure you're still there," he says to the room at large.

The Red Paladin doesn't answer him, but he gets the feeling he hears Shiro anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! ♥
> 
> And because I totally forgot last time. If you ever wanna chat about sheith or just watch my queue spit out a million fanart reblogs, you can find me at my sheith sideblog over [heeeere](https://o-riande.tumblr.com/)!


	3. Chapter 3

He dreams that night. It's vague, little more than flashes of images and sound. Smoke. Stars surrounding him, under and above him. A voice calling his name over and over again. Rough, low laughter. Cackling.

_As many times as you ask_ , he hears in the Red Paladin's voice.

_As many times as it takes_ , he hears, in the same voice calling his name.

And when he wakes, breathing hard and _himself_ , completely in control of his body for a precious few moments, it's that voice that stays with him. It's little more than an impression by the time he's fully awake, not so much a coherent sound as a feeling, but it stays.

The Red Paladin, however, makes himself scarce throughout the next week. _Both_ versions of him.

He only manages one glimpse of him, when the Red Paladin catches his eye across the entrance hall one evening. He gives Shiro a smile then, small but still visible from the distance, until he spots Hunk standing by Shiro. Then his expression turns significant, raised eyebrows and a pinched mouth before, with a nod at Shiro's general direction, he turns away to speak to someone else.

Shiro can't even begin to make sense of it.

But he does see Hunk again more than once during his free time, the man seeming to have taken a shine for him. He can't deny it's a little strange at first, having someone who, intellectually, he knows was likely his friend once try to make friends with him all over again. But he can't remember any of it, no matter how hard he tries and no matter how long he spends awake at night trying to grasp at even the barest slip of a memory.

Hunk turns out to be a friendly enough man though, one he'd be more than glad to make friends with even if it weren't a foregone conclusion.

The thought strikes him at one point, again, that he did do exactly that once upon a time, but dwelling on the logistics of _that_ for too long is enough to make his head spin.

So he just shakes his head and tunes back into the explanation Hunk's giving him on some of the finer workings of the machinery he spends his days with. It's all, admittedly, going over Shiro's head, and he can tell it was going over his head the first time around, but there's something soothing about Hunk's voice and it's nice to see someone be so enthusiastic in as cold and sterile a place as Zaherux. So he finds he doesn't really mind listening for as long as Hunk's willing to speak.

It's nice in this little break room anyway, the one where he first met Hunk. They've got a small square table to themselves in the corner, right by the only window in the room that's giving them a frankly impressive view of the snowy mountains outside the castle.

Shiro wonders, idly, if a view similar to this one is what the Red Paladin would see if he turned on the lights in the castle Shiro woke up in. If maybe he just prefers the darkness to this kind of view, or if he even knows how to get the castle up and running like this again. Or if maybe his view would be something else entirely. Even with him having told Shiro that they're in a different planet now (Somehow? He still doesn't quite get it), the castle just doesn't feel the same way now as it did then. The oppressive, heavy atmosphere it had is gone in this bright and airy room, even knowing Prorok's lackeys are probably watching their every move.

He must miss something though, some beat in the conversation while contemplating that, because when he hears himself ask, "But you're not always alone when you're working on that, are you?" in a concerned tone, he realizes he's not quite sure just what Hunk said that prompted that.

"Huh?" Hunk laughs. "Nah. Pi--Katie's usually working with me, too. She's, like, super good at that kinda' stuff, too, it's a little scary sometimes. But, uh..." And he seems to realize just who he's talking about a second too late, because his eyes go wide as saucers, his entire posture going from relaxed to suddenly tense.

Hunk's not that great at lying under pressure, he observes. That's becoming a pattern with the people he meets here.

"Not that she's, like, supposed to be there or anything! Or, uh, there when she's not supposed to! Or anywhere! You know, with... Prorok... and all..."

"I don't," Shiro says slowly. "Don't she and her brother work here, too? If their parents--" He cuts himself off, watching the way Hunk shakes his head frantically.

"Ixnay on the Olts-hay," he hisses.

Shiro raises an eyebrow at him and whatever confusion his past self was feeling, he's sure it was the same as he's feeling now. Thanks to the Red Paladin, he knows the topic of the elder Holt is a sensitive one right now, but if Hunk brought up Katie himself, even if thoughtlessly, he thought maybe he could at least ask about her and her brother. Especially if they're both still running around the facility. "Hunk," he says, lowering his voice. "I understand about Mister Holt, I got the explanation. But would it be too presumptuous of me to ask why even mentioning Katie has you looking nervous?"

"Who's nervous? Pfft. Isn't that me, like, all of the time? You know that, man." But whatever Hunk sees in Shiro's face must loosen his tongue somehow, because soon enough, his shoulders are slumping and he's leaning forward across the table, hands flat on its surface.

"I'm guessing the only person who's even told you anything about them besides me is--" Shiro closes his eyes, already expecting the way the world distorts around him whenever someone brings up the Red Paladin's name. "Right?"

Shiro nods.

"In that case, look, I'm only telling you 'cause he already told you part of it, all right? Cat's out of the bag and it's not like everyone else doesn't know already anyway... It's just..." Hunk looks away, tapping his fingers against the surface of the table. "Matt's fine. The Galra leave him alone. But she pissed off Prorok, you know? She kept asking questions about her dad and if they really took him to Central Command or somewhere else and..." He frowns, deeply enough that Shiro finds himself frowning right along with him. "Well, technically, she's supposed to be on house arrest right now. No leaving her family's quarters, no nothing. Or they send _her_ off somewhere, too."

_Oh_. That explains a lot.

"But she's not staying in her quarters."

"You kidding me? I don't think Zarkon himself could keep her in there. And it's gotta be driving Matt and her mom nuts."

"I can imagine," Shiro murmurs. "Are they keeping an eye on Matt, too?" He doesn't know _how_ he knows, but there's a certainty in him that being left alone by the Galra doesn't necessarily mean being _left alone_.

Hunk shifts in his seat. "Kinda? He's gotta be real careful if he goes anywhere or they're gonna think he's, like, conspiring with his sister or something, you know? I'm telling you, it's gotta be driving him nuts."

"And what's Matt doing about it?"

Hunk snorts. "About her? Sometimes he's arguing with her, sometimes he's trying to keep her busy with _science_." He spreads his fingers slowly in his front of his face. "Works pretty well, in my experience."

"And about his dad?" Shiro asks and suddenly wishes he could snap his mouth shut. It's a little... a little more direct than he feels he'd be in this sort of situation, but he can't exactly be sure of it. There's so very little he remembers that he can count it all on one hand and have fingers left over.

Hunk blinks at him, then quickly covers it up with a grin. "Sorry, buddy, nothing I can tell just anyone about! A man can't just tell people about his friend's secret ninja rescue plans." Then he crosses his arms, his face turning into the perfect picture of deadpan disapproval. "Which would be stupid if they were true. Come on, man."

Shiro winces. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right, sorry about that." He smiles, rubbing the back of his neck with the cool metal of his prosthetic hand. "I guess I was more curious than I thought. It just kind of slipped out."

Hunk shrugs, face open and friendly once again. "Hey, no big. Kinda hard not to be curious sometimes. And it's not like I'm all that happy about all of this either, or a lot of people. But I'm sure Matt's more worried about his mom and sister right now." Placing a hand on the table once more, he uses it as leverage to pull himself up. "Buuut I should probably get going. Lots more work now that my break's ending," he mutters. "See ya later?"

"Yeah." Shiro smiles. "See you later, Hunk."

When Hunk stands, a little yellow square peeks out of the front pocket of his apron, just for a moment, just long enough for Shiro to get a good eyeful, though he's sure Hunk doesn't intend for him to even see it. A communicator, by the looks of it, and not a standard one, at that. It's modified, somehow, by the looks of it, with technology he's guessing isn't Galra. And maybe, normally, that'd be nothing to blink an eye at in a place full of engineers and scientists.

Except for the fact that he's more than a little certain that it was an almost identical communicator, in green that time, that Matt and Katie were fighting over his first day in these memories.

He's still not quite sure just what the Red Paladin meant when he spoke of the Green and Yellow Paladins, and he thinks he might like nothing more than to be able to brush this aside as a simple coincidence. Just something for Hunk and Katie to keep in touch while she's technically under house arrest.

But the thing is... there must be some reason that it's _these_ memories he's viewing and _these_ people who his past self was interacting with.

He needs to believe that.

Now he just has to hope his past self was just as curious about that communicator as he is right now.

-

Turns out he was. He keeps a careful eye on Hunk over the next few days, notices the occasional absence he didn't before, and comes to a decision.

One night, after an evening spent carefully tailing Hunk to his quarters, he's back in his room when the lights begin to dim, still fully dressed and perched on the edge of his bed.

He doesn't need to have all of his past self's memories to know what's going through his mind here.

When the lights finally go fully out, leaving him with only the slight purple glow at the very bottom of the walls, he stands, grabbing the flashlight he was given for work here as he does--one not too different from the Red Paladin's own square little flashlight, he realizes, not for the first time.

The guilt comes through loud and clear, even if it doesn't truly feel like _his_ guilt, but he reminds himself once again that there must be a reason these are the memories the lions wanted him to see. And see them, he will. He promised the Red Paladin.

So he retraces his steps in the dark, flashlight held close to his chest to dim everything but what little light he needs to see, until he ends up in the corridor that leads to Hunk's room. He tucks himself into an alcove and, sure enough, it's a matter of minutes until Hunk's door is sliding open, the man himself tentatively stepping out of the room, that yellow communicator clutched tightly in one hand.

Shiro swallows and waits until Hunk's crept past his hiding spot and beyond, before he's pushing off from the alcove, following his footsteps at a sedate pace.

Hunk's moving slowly enough, carefully enough, that he doesn't think he's in any danger of losing him.

Hunk leads him on a slow, meandering path, stopping only twice to mutter into that communicator of his, before pressing onward again. Shiro's not sure at all where he's leading him, but they go down more staircases than they go up, avoiding the lifts the whole time. It's quiet enough during the night hours that it's downright eerie and Shiro doesn't dare let his mind wander as he follows Hunk's path, an eye and an ear out for any stray scientist or Galra that may still be up.

The longer they go without even a glimpse of someone else, the more Shiro can feel the tension building in his shoulders, his jaw clenching tight, until finally, _finally_ , he hears voices in the distance. Hushed, but excited, they begin to drift into his earshot after one last, long set of stairs, just as a faint light begins to fill the end of the hallway Hunk's crossing.

With careful steps, Shiro approaches the doors, left slightly ajar, that Hunk disappears into. He leans a hand against the doorframe, shuffles sideways enough to get a better look through the open doors, and--

_Thwack_!

"H-hey!" he blurts out, whirling around and backing away in one hurried motion, his right hand reaching up to rub at where _someone's_ whacked him upside the head. "What's that about?!"

Not that he got hit very hard though. He's almost disappointed by the lack of effort.

"What do you think _you're_ doing here?!" a voice hisses at him, just on the edge of panic, and it only takes him a moment to realize who it belongs to.

"Matt Holt?" he asks dumbly, letting his hand fall back to his side. "What are you doing here?"

"What the hell," Matt grits out. "Do you even know where you are right now?!"

"A research facility on the planet Zaherux," Shiro deadpans, knowing full well that's not the answer Matt's looking for. But honestly? He's still got no idea where Hunk led him to.

Matt groans. "Are you kidding me? You just... what? Decided to take a stroll down here for no reason?"

Shiro considers his answer. "Nah. I followed Hunk here."

Matt's face, if anything, only grows more pinched. "Yeah, figures he's here now, too," he mutters, almost too low for Shiro to make out. He turns a suspicious eye on Shiro, then over Shiro's shoulder, like he's just waiting for someone to come leaping out of the shadows. "So how many of the Galra did you tell you were following Hunk tonight?"

"None." Shiro narrows his eyes down at Matt, considering. "Should I assume you're all doing something they wouldn't be very happy with?"

Matt doesn't answer, just keeps his mouth firmly shut.

Yeah, he hit the nail on the head.

_You're seeing these memories for a reason_ , he reminds himself for what feels like the umpteenth time as he leans in closer, voice pitched lower. "Look, I'm not going to tell anyone. I promise. But a meeting of people doing something the Galra in charge here wouldn't be happy with? That sounds a little like what Prorok would call a rebellion."

Matt smiles at him, though there's not a hint of mirth to it. "Maybe that's what we want it to be."

Shiro takes in a sharp breath.

"Look," Matt presses on before Shiro can say anything. "I talk to Hunk, too. I know what you two have talked about and I know just how many questions you've been asking." _And how dangerous those questions are_ , remains unspoken. "I wanted to ask you about this. Just not yet and not like this." Matt narrows his eyes up at him through his glasses, something about his stance turning warier. "But this sounds to me like the kind of thing a guy like you should be all in for."

Shiro's lips twitch. Huh, a rebellion brewing right in the castle's basement. He's sure Prorok's just going to love that.

"What are you planning?" he asks, because Shiro might not remember a lot, but he knows this much. This isn't the kind of thing he could ever just walk away from.

And Matt smiles, determination writ into every line of his face, and pushes him inside the door.

-

It's so much more than Shiro expected. He was joking, if only to himself, when he thought about a rebellion brewing right under Prorok's nose. But that's exactly what it is. Scientists, service workers, security workers, even a handful of Galra themselves, _all_ of them, meeting in secret since days after Samuel Holt was taken from the facility. All intending to wrest back control of the facility from Prorok and his men.

And all with their heads full of whispers and stories of rebellions forming all throughout the galaxy, of some kind of slowly-brewing, but long-running resistance movement against Zarkon's empire. And Shiro can see it for what it is. After what it's taken him a shamefully long time to realize (to remember? He doesn't know) is a centuries-long reign, it's _hope_.

It's a promise that things can change and, even with as little as he remembers of all of this, he can _feel_ how significant it is.

What still doesn't quite add up is Hunk and Katie's communicators. He doesn't ask Hunk, who doesn't seem particularly forthcoming on the topic of Katie Holt anyway, and judging from their very first meeting, he gets the feeling it's something Matt won't tell him about either.

And that's fine. He's got plenty to sort through in his own head before he can focus on that. Both versions of him. Even if it is getting harder and harder to remember that he _can't_ actually influence any of the events that happen here.

He already did all of this, as bizarre as that still is to think.

It's enough to make him wish the Red Paladin could have been there with him during that meeting, while the people there argued back and forth on how subtle they should be, on how much they should wait, on whether it should be Olia or Nyma or Rolo who took charge.

Even if the Red Paladin can't answer any of his questions, it would have just been... Nice, to have another familiar face there.

Even if he does find himself somewhat startled to think of him in those terms.

And maybe the world listens to him, or maybe he just had the strangest luck ever back in this time, but on his way back to his own quarters that night, he spots the past Red Paladin in a dimly lit corridor, his back turned to where Shiro's coming from. He considers turning right back around before the man can spot him--and this body agrees with him, too, judging by the way it tenses and takes a step backward, his heart hammering in his chest. He doesn't know what the Red Paladin of this time would make of these rebels he was meeting with, still can't figure out whether he was warning or urging him before, though he has no doubt the one of the present knows all about them.

Unfortunately, it's the only way back to his quarters that doesn't involve rounding the entire other side of the castle. He's weighing the pros and cons of doing just that, when he realizes that the Red Paladin isn't even aware of his presence there.

He's leaning against one of the walls, a hand clenched tightly on one, head bowed, and he's... _muttering_ to himself, of all things.

Shiro turns his head from side to side, but the hallway remains as it was when he found it: empty of everyone except the Red Paladin, and now himself.

He can't make out what the Red Paladin's saying, but the words are clipped and tight, his breath coming in short, harsh bursts in between sentences.

"--can't do anything about that," Shiro hears when he takes several cautious steps forward. But for all that he's careful to keep his footfalls light and quiet, he begins to suspect it's completely unnecessary, when the Red Paladin only huffs and mutters, "I _don't know_. I thought you said we'd only have to--" He groans, grinding his fist against the wall. "You could try doing something yourself! Find her your own damn..."

This isn't something he should be witnessing, Shiro thinks, rooted to the spot as he is, as the Red Paladin dissolves into nearly incoherent mumbles.

But he can't just abandon him to it either. Neither version of him.

"Are you okay?" he asks, and though his voice is soft, the Red Paladin immediately freezes in place, his shoulders hunching up. "Sorry," he adds quickly, putting on a sheepish smile when the Red Paladin slowly, so very slowly, lifts his head to look at him. "I know it's none of my business, but you look like you're not feeling that great right now. Do you need someone to take you to the infirmary?"

The Red Paladin's lips part in surprise as he seems to flounder for words.

"Seriously," Shiro says gently, stepping closer. "It's probably a good idea for you to get checked out, anyway. Something could be going around."

Not that a flu or anything would exactly have someone talking to the walls. He hopes.

"No," the Red Paladin blurts out, still frozen in place, his every word coming out stiffly. "I'm fine. It's not a big deal, I just..." He trails off.

He's such a terrible liar. Shiro's not sure how he didn't pick up on it the first time around.

"Are you sure?"

There is so much Shiro cannot even begin to understand about this man. All he can be sure of is that he's trying to help Shiro regain his memories and that, in the past, he was once happy to see him, even if maybe the Red Paladin of the present doesn't quite remember it either.

(And he knows. He knows there has to be a reason for that. After all, just what can all that time in isolation do to a person? How long has it really been for him? Decades, he said? Even just a few years would be too many.)

But that's just the problem.

He's presented this to Shiro as the first of the memories he has to see. But there _must_ be more to it than that.

The past version of the Red Paladin might be the key to finding out what, but... Just what is he supposed to think when this happens? How is he supposed to dig for information from him this way?

The Red Paladin turns then, his back to the wall, and gives him another one of those looks that Shiro just can't seem to make heads or tails of. "Yeah," he mumbles. "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry." Then, inexplicably, he asks, "Are you okay though? Did you still have work now?"

"No," Shiro answers, and he knows he doesn't manage to keep the disbelief entirely out of his voice. "No, I didn't have work, I'm fine."

"Oh," the Red Paladin breathes. "Good. Are you going to get some rest now? I didn't realize how late it was."

And, usually, it rubs at Shiro wrong when people tell him to get some rest, for some reason he can only imagine is tied up with his lost memories. It pulls and tears at his patience, though he tamps down at it as quickly as he can. But the way he asks, quiet and unassuming, is... different. Acceptable.

At Shiro's nod, the Red Paladin smiles, that tiny barely there quirk to his lips.

It's unfairly attractive.

"Good night, Shiro," the Red Paladin goes on, and it's a little too casual, a little too hurried to be anything but him trying to beat a hasty retreat before Shiro can ask any more questions, but there's still a warmth to this tone that has Shiro staring after him, even once he rounds the corner to the next hallway.

Shiro breathes in through his nose, and reminds himself of the voice that was calling out to him. The very reason he's here in the first place.

He doesn't know what he's doing anymore.

-

Two weeks later, Matt corners him in a break room, face more serious than any of the handful of other times he's seen him around.

"Hey," he tells him in a whisper. "If you're serious about this." And he doesn't have to specify what _this_ means, not when every single one of their brief meetings during the last two weeks have featured more than a few significant looks from Matt. "Come with me tonight, all right?"

Besides, he doesn't even make a joke about it. It must be serious.

So Shiro nods and, quietly, keeping an eye out for who may be nearby, asks, "Do you want me to wait for you or to meet up with you there?"

Matt does smile now, not quite the carefree, roguish grin he's seen on him a few times by now, but a smile nonetheless. "Meet me there. Wouldn't want people to think we're sneaking around or anything right? They'll _talk_ and, sorry, man, you're great and all--" He looks Shiro up and down, every move more than a little exaggerated. "--Real handsome and whatever. But I just don't see you that way!"

And there it is. That's more like it.

Shiro laughs, louder than he meant to, but he doesn't bother to quiet himself, not even when a nearby Olkari turns to give him a strange look.

It's fine.

Without waiting for any kind of further answer, Matt turns away and leaves the room.

That night, he doesn't see Hunk in the corridors. Shiro's not exactly looking for him on the way, if he's honest with himself, and he figures he'll just run into him at the meeting, if he gets the chance. Depending on how many people show up this time.

There weren't that many the last time, but from what he's gathered from Matt, not everyone shows up every time. Safety measures, which Shiro can more than see the logic of.

When he enters the basement this time, the crowd is thicker, the murmuring voices just a little louder. There's a certain air of anticipation to the room and, when he sees Matt from a distance and meets his eyes, he can tell this is exactly why he wanted Shiro here tonight.

Though a little warning would've been nice.

The press of the crowd has him pushing closer and closer to the back of the room, where a conversation, little more than hushed whispers, catches his ear.

"Are you kidding me?! Matt is totally gonna kill me for this! Me!"

It definitely, definitely catches his ear.

"That's why Matt's not going to find out!" another voice answers, tone hard.

"Yeah? What are you gonna do when he sees you later then?" the first voice, which Shiro is quickly realizing is _Hunk_ , raises into a falsetto. "Oh, no, no, I just felt like a change, that's all! Nothing to worry about. I totally don't look just like that new guy who was in the meeting!"

"I don't even talk like that!"

"Yeah? Wanna bet?"

"You bet I--"

"Hunk?" Shiro asks cautiously, peeking around a pair of Taujeerians deep in some kind of discussion. He gets the feeling he probably shouldn't leave them to it, not with the way their voices keep getting louder and louder.

Hunk and his friend freeze.

And when Shiro steps around the Taujeerians, he raises his eyebrows at that friend.

The kid's quite a bit shorter than Hunk, with messy short hair, and large round glasses that... look a lot like Matt's now that he thinks about it.

In fact... The kid's _face_ looks familiar.

Shiro's mouth is moving before he--his present self, his past self, he doesn't even know anymore--can think better of it. "Is that Kati--"

" _Pidge_!" she all but yells, hands held up in front of her.

Hunk jumps practically a foot in the air.

"Uh."

"Pidge," she says in a much softer voice, staring wide-eyed at the surrounding people who've turned to stare at the loud noise. "My name's... Pidge."

"Okay," Shiro says slowly. "Pidge. You're... Hunk's friend?"

She narrows her eyes at him and nods. With more than a hint of suspicion in her voice, she says, "Yeah. Hunk brought me here. It's my first one of these meetings." When her left hand clenches at the end of that, he notices just what she's clutching.

A green communicator.

Ah.

There's a reason these are the particular memories he's seeing, indeed.

Slowly, the people around them lose interest in the short human shouting, and the three of them are left in the relative privacy being in the middle of a crowd affords.

"So... Pidge," Shiro says again, slowly. "And Matt isn't supposed to know you're here?"

Pidge elbows Hunk, her eyebrows drawing down in a scowl. "I told you you were being too loud!"

"No, no, no, no, no. Don't you blame this on me!" Hunk holds his hands up in front of him, as if in supplication. "I was _trying_ to be subtle, I'm not the one who yelled at everyone!"

Shiro raises an eyebrow.

Pidge groans. "What?!"

"I won't tell your brother," Shiro says, because he's not going to pretend like he doesn't know who Pidge is. "But I'm getting the feeling maybe that's not the right decision."

"Uh oh," Hunk whispers.

Pidge seems to practically inflate to twice her size. "No, you don't," she says quickly. "You don't get it. He keeps trying to keep me out of all of this and he _can't_. He just can't, okay? There is so much I could be doing here right now to help. So if I've gotta look a little different so he can't kick me right out when he sees me, I'll do it."

"Even though it's, uh, extremely dangerous," Hunk cuts in with a sheepish smile. "And he'll see you when he gets home."

"The Galra were an issue, too," she snaps, before turning back to Shiro and demanding, "What did Matt tell you?"

"About you? Nothing."

She huffs. "Then he definitely didn't tell you about how much I could help. So just stay out of my way, while I--"

"Uh, Pidge?" Hunk cuts in hesitantly. "Maybe we could... tell him?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"No, no, I mean it! He's a good guy! We're, like... We're buddies now. Right, Shiro?"

Despite himself, Shiro smiles. "Of course, Hunk."

Pidge looks between Hunk and Shiro, expression skeptical, before shrugging. "Whatever. I don't care. Look. I know you're some kind of bigshot monster-slayer now. You probably think you've got this covered. But look." She holds up her hand, the one holding the communicator, and practically shoves it up in his face. "I built this myself and you know what this thing can do? Show 'im Hunk," she says imperiously.

Hunk resembles nothing so much as a deer in the headlights then, when he slowly, very slowly, pulls his own yellow communicator out of the inside pocket of his jacket. "Uh. Show him what, Pidge?"

"Oh, for the love of--" She shakes her head roughly. "Look, Shiro. What do you when you live here and you wanna talk to someone outside the facility?"

Hunk pushes his fingers together. "There aren't exactly a whole lot of people outside the facility."

"Then outside Zaherux!" she amends. "What do you do? What do you expect?"

Shiro doesn't know the answer to that. He hasn't actually had to communicate with anyone throughout all these memories. But his past self knows. "You go to one of the communication stations in the castle," he answers. "And you ask to..." He breathes in. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh. No matter who you talk to, Prorok and his men are going to know all about it."

That doesn't... It doesn't feel right. He has no doubt it's true, with how certain Hunk and Pidge look. That's it commonplace somewhere like this version of the Castle of Lions. But it just... Pulls at him wrong. In ways he can't really explain.

"So I take it you did something about that."

Pidge smiles now, a hint of mischief in the expression. "You bet. Hunk and I have been testing them? And they can't show up on _any_ of their scanners. If we just had the time and materials to make more of them, we could contact rebels in other planets. _Rebels_. In _other planets_. Do you get how huge that is?"

He thinks he's beginning to.

"Pidge," he says softly. "What exactly do you plan to do if you can get a hold of any other rebels?"

"Coordinate something, of course!" she says, as if she can't believe she even has to answer that question. "We're one cell of rebels in one backwater planet. It'd take us years to get the organization and manpower we need to throw the Galra out of just this planet by ourselves. Never mind finding where they're planning on taking anyone!"

"Like your dad?"

"Yes, like my dad!"

"I thought they took him to Central Command?" Shiro shifts on his feet. "I think you've got a really good idea going here." And he's not actually surprised to find he means it. "But even with help, it'd take years to get into Central Command. It'd be suicide to go any sooner."

Something dark crosses Pidge's face then, a strange tightening of her features. "My dad's not in Central Command," she says, tone wooden.

Hunk tenses beside her, but remains otherwise silent.

Shiro frowns. "I don't understand. All I've heard is about how he got taken to Central Command."

"And I've spent enough time listening in on Prorok and his goons to know that's not true," she hisses. "I don't know where they took him, but it's not Central Command. I just know it! All those Galra treat getting to go there like some kind of reward and they sure didn't treat it like a reward when they came into our rooms and took my dad! What are they even going to do with human scientists there?!" She scowls up at him. "I'm going to find out where they really took him, just as soon as I can get enough help for it."

"And Matt doesn't know about this."

"And he's not going to find out."

Around them, the meeting begins in earnest, but Shiro can't bring himself to focus on that, not when he's got Pidge still glaring up at him like that, a hint of pleading to it.

And he's beginning to believe her.

"He's scared," she whispers, like a secret. "But he just doesn't get how much worse it's going to be if we have to keep waiting! There's no way my dad's the only one they're going to pick off from here!" Her face twists in a grimace, before settling on a grim smile. "And he's been trying to keep me away from all of this. Too bad I figured it out anyway, huh?"

"You figured it out?" a new voice says, no doubt attracted by the raised voices.

Shiro freezes.

Oh no. _Matt_.

But when Shiro turns to look at him, it's not anger he sees in Matt's expression, not surprise. It's _fear_ , pure and unadultered.

" _Katie_!" he hisses, scowling. "You can't... You can't be here! What if the Galra saw you, what if--"

"What if they saw all of you down here, huh?! You think that'd be any better!" She slaps a hand against her chest, eyes so intense Shiro's almost tempted to take a step back. "I can help. All of you. If you'd all just _listen_ to me," she insists.

"Just... Come here, we can't talk about this here!" he says, already pulling on the edge of Pidge's sweater, toward a quieter corner of the room. "You two!" He points at Shiro and Hunk over his shoulder. "You come here, too!"

By the time Shiro and Hunk catch up, he hears Matt hiss, "Katie, _please_. Just go back," practically begging. "Just go home with mom and let us do this. We'll do everything we can to find Dad, okay? But do you have any idea how dangerous this is when they already know you've been poking around?"

"I don't care, Matt! He's my dad, too, and if there's anything I can do, you bet I'll do it! Because what if Mom is next?! You can't guarantee she won't be! Then they take you and then what?!"

"Katie..."

"No! Then what, Matt?!" She steps in close to him, gritting her teeth. "Face it. We don't have a lot of time left here and the sooner you accept that, the sooner we can deal with it!"

"Katie..."

"Half the people in this rebellion of yours have no clue what they're doing, Matt! I can see what you've done to make it more secret, but it's no good. Any one of them could spill any of these days. Most of them have lived here their whole lives. They'd be too scared if you asked them to do anything for real!" She scoffs. "Half of them still think Voltron's going to come save them if they're really good at this rebel thing."

Shiro doesn't hear Matt's response to that, barely even hears Hunk's nervous voice chiming in.

Voltron?

It's that same jolt again that has him wincing, like he's throwing himself against the wall in his head again.

His hands don't shake. But he feels a little like they should, while his body's going on autopilot like this, while he knows some version of him is paying close attention to the conversation unfolding around him.

_Voltron_.

He wishes the Red Paladin were here, if only so he could have _someone_ to ask about this. It doesn't even matter that the Red Paladin probably wouldn't answer his questions about it, probably thinks that's something else he has to remember on his own.

Is Voltron something else he's supposed to remember?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeyy, thanks for reading again, everybody! ♥
> 
> This chapter was uh... actually supposed to advance the plot a bit more, but apparently Shiro mooning after Keith takes up a lot of words, huh? Go figure. But hey. Next update, next update!!
> 
> I've set a number of chapters for this fic, but warning that it's kind of tentative? Because, while I might have finished writing almost all of it, I... did not write it split up in chapters oh god i'm sorry


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hey, hey, remember how this is tagged as a reincarnation AU? I promise, absolutely promise, no one's story ends in this chapter. Seriously!!
> 
> Please do remember the warnings, by the way, if that's something you'd like to have more of a specific heads up on.

He tunes back in just in time to hear Pidge say, "Voltron hasn't been seen in ten thousand years! Unless you know something I don't about it, I'm working with what we've got for now."

Shiro doesn't startle, but only because this is something his body, his past self, already knew. On the inside though, he's still reeling.

And the worst part is he can't even tell _why_.

Just what is Voltron and why should it being missing for ten thousand years provoke this kind of reaction in him? He needs to ask the Red Paladin.

"So what are you going to do instead?" Matt's voice, still pleading, breaks through the haze. "Get yourself killed?!"

"Yes!" Pidge all but yells, then scoffs. " _No_ , I don't intend to get myself killed. But I'll do what I have to and it'll be worth whatever happens if it at least helps the others." At Matt's horrified look, she presses on. "Look, Tarith's the closest planet out here in the middle of nowhere and the transport that took Dad probably had to stop there for at least a few hours. It's our best shot at starting _any_ kind of coordination. If I can contact it, then..." She shakes her head helplessly. "Do you know how much that could help us? How much that could help everyone? Do you have any idea, Matt?"

"Pidgeon... I can't let you do this. We're coming up with plans and--"

"And they're not going anywhere! You know that. We can't go far on our own here and you _know_ that. I don't care what you try, Matt," she says, voice softer now. "This is our only chance for now and I'm gonna take it. Look. If we get in the communications room, we can use these--" She holds up her communicator and nudges Hunk to do the same with his. "--And what we've learned building these to send out a _real_ message. It's a start and a real good one. And I'm not. Going. To miss that chance."

"Pidge," Shiro finds himself saying, even before he can decide what he should say. At least he was a little quicker on the uptake that time around, he supposes.

" _Don't_ you try to stop me either. You barely even know me."

"When you go, I'm going with you."

Her eyes widen. "Oh. Thank you."

"Uh. For the record? I think this is a terrible idea, but I, uh..." Hunk taps the toe of his boot against the floor, his shoulders slumping. "I'm going with you, too. Getting some kind of help would be, uh... helpful?"

"Katie, please," Matt cuts in.

"I'm doing it, Matt. Even if you tell Mom. We don't have a _choice_. Without some kind of help, this rebellion's not going anywhere."

"This is such a terrible idea," Matt grumbles, with one last glare at Pidge. "I can't just..." He straightens up, crossing his arm. "I'm going to talk to Olia," he says firmly. "We all know what we signed up for when we started coming to these meetings, but that doesn't include what you're planning yet, Katie. Especially when they're _watching you_."

Pidge doesn't answer, just mirrors his pose, arms crossed and lips pursed, until he walks away.

She hardly spares him a second glance before she rounds on Shiro and Hunk. "You both said you'd go with me. How's tomorrow night?"

Hunk practically squeaks. "A-already? Why tomorrow night?"

" _Because_ it's our last chance this movement for them to be away from the comms room." She smirks. "Remember that program I was talking to you about, Hunk? I might've planted something with it that mixed up some shifts. But I can't do it again so quick or they'll notice." She looks up at Shiro. "So you're coming, too, right?"

Shiro swallows. "Yeah. This is..." He sighs, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. It's insane, yeah. But not the kind of thing he can just walk away from if she's already so determined. "This isn't something I want you guys to have to do on your own."

"Good," she says, her eyes hard behind her glasses. "I'm gonna get all my stuff for it tomorrow, before Matt can convince Mom of anything. If he tells her anything," she mutters, brows drawn down. "So you two be ready, all right?"

He doesn't really hear anything about the rest of the meeting. And he only spots Matt near the end, in the middle of a tense-looking hushed conversation with Olia, the latter looking thoughtful more than anything else.

But he doesn't miss the people around them either, more than one looking like they're pretending not to eavesdrop.

He hopes Matt knows what he's doing.

And that so does Pidge, for that matter.

-

In the end, it's laughably easy. Whatever Pidge did seems to work well enough that they reach the communications room with no issue the next evening and in no time, she's got her laptop and communicator out, tapping away faster than Shiro can keep track of.

"So you're sure," Hunk is saying. His voice wavers, but where he's nonetheless got his own laptop out, while Shiro stands guard near the door. "I mean... This facility's been around longer than we've even been alive, you know? You sure they can't just see through a program like this."

"As sure as I can be," Pidge says shortly. "Like I said, I'm working with what we've got. And if it's not enough, we'll deal with it."

Shiro snorts. "Not the most encouraging thing I've ever heard, but we probably can't expect that much right now."

Pidge blinks up at him, then grins. "More or less."

Hunk groans.

"Just what exactly are you sending to Tarith though?" Shiro asks, leaning against the wall by the doorway.

"Everything that's happened here," Pidge says without looking up. "They've got another facility like this one there. If they're ready for it, they can probably make sure they don't lose any of their own." She huffs out a sigh. "And if we keep exchanging information... It'll be slow, but we can probably actually do something about all of these Galra. They don't exactly tell us a lot, you know? And I don't know how much longer this planet can hold out with what they're doing to it. But Tarith's closer to other planets. We _need_ an ally like that. And if anything happens to _us_..." She swallows visibly. "Well. They'll know."

It's. It's a lot. But none of it really contradicts anything that he's learned during his time on Zaherux either. So he just nods in answer, crossing his arms.

He says nothing else though and neither do Pidge and Hunk, and soon all Shiro can hear is their steady typing, interspersed with muttering here and there. Mostly from Pidge.

"Shiro," she says suddenly, just when his mind begins to drift.

"Hm?"

There's an odd note to her voice now, her fingers flying over her keyboard as she speaks without even looking up. "I've got things set up now so no one _here_ will be able to tell a message went out. I just need a couple more minutes."

Shiro nods. "Okay," he says warily, because that's not a triumphant look on her face right now. And when he glances over at Hunk, he sees his fingers still over his own keyboard, his face turning ashen.

"But according to this room's security, someone's coming," she says, and just what her voice is doing becomes clear then. She's trying her damnedest not to let it shake or waver. "I can't tell who it is. If it's the Galra..." She huffs out a breath, cheeks puffing out. "I don't want to just send you out to them, but if you could just..."

Shiro shakes his head before she can finish. No. No, he gets the feeling he knows exactly where this is going. And exactly what he's going to do. "I can buy you a few minutes."

"Thank you," she says, voice small. "Be careful, okay?"

Shiro takes a deep breath, steeling himself, and steps out the doorway, casual as he can, as if he were meant to be in the comms room.

He hears the footsteps before he sees their owners, but it's not Galra he finds hurrying to him when he turns toward them.

"Matt?" he breathes, breath catching at the sight of not just him but the Red Paladin hurrying down the corridor, the latter looking almost as pale as he did in the present.

"Of course she still went and did it," Matt says once he's close enough for Shiro to hear, shaking his head frantically. "Look. Shiro. There's no time, okay? This guy--" And he pats the Red Paladin's back roughly, the man in question stopping dead, eyes wide, at the contact. "--Tells me the Galra here are just _a little savvier_ than Katie hoped for."

"What are you talking about?"

But the Red Paladin doesn't explain right away. He only looks up at Shiro, lips twisted in a frown. "I didn't know you were working with them," he says, almost bewildered. Like he somehow should have been able to know.

Shiro doesn't wince. But he kind of feels like he should have. "Well, it was supposed to be a secret," he says, what should have been a light tone falling flat even to his own ears. "And this..." He nods toward the door to the communications room. "...Was kind of last minute."

The Red Paladin, if anything, only frowns all the more. "Shiro, Prorok knows a lot more than any of you think. I don't..." He seems at a loss for a moment, arms crossed tightly. "Be careful. They don't pay a lot of attention to me, but I _heard_ them. They're planning something today and I don't know if it's..." He bites his lip, gaze straying over to the comms room. When he speaks again, his voice is more insistent, "Whatever you're doing, they have to move now. _You_ have to move now. I can't tell if--"

Shiro doesn't get to hear what the Red Paladin can't tell. Not when Matt shushes them both, his entire posture going rigid. "You guys hear that?" he asks, already whirling around to face the direction he came from.

It takes a moment, but Shiro does. Footsteps, and much more hurried than Matt and the Red Paladin's had been.

"They did know," the Red Paladin says faintly. "Shiro, you've gotta--"

"Pidge and Hunk are working," he says, already turning back to the doorway. "We can't just leave them."

The Red Paladin hesitates, though Matt wastes no time in sticking his head through the doorway and beginning a hushed conversation with an increasingly irate Pidge.

He can't even begin to decipher the look the Red Paladin gives him then, the way he holds himself so stiffly it has to _hurt_. Shiro opens his mouth to speak, but the Red Paladin beats him to it.

"You don't have to tell me," he says and he could swear the guy sounds resigned, of all things. "You're going to help them." He smiles, slight, but almost fond.  
"I'll keep guard. Be careful, okay?"

Shiro smiles back at him. "Of course."

Then he's off, back toward Hunk and Pidge. He sees Matt join the Red Paladin out of the corner of his eye, seeming more and more agitated in the face of the Red Paladin's sudden calm. But he can't focus on that right now.

Not when voices join the footsteps, one among them eerily familiar.

"Just as we thought!" Prorok's voice rings out above the others, on the edge of a laugh. "The Holts. And a half-breed among their accomplices."

Shiro frowns. A half-breed? He can't even begin to tell what that's supposed to mean.

"Can't trust a single one of them..." Prorok does laugh this time, the sound low and deep. "Let's not let them waste our time any longer."

The first whirr of a blaster is a shock, Shiro finding himself clutching at the console beside Pidge with both hands, eyes wide in surprise. There's a grunt from the hall, the sound of crumbling walls, and another whirr. Matt's voice drifts in, words unintelligible over the sound of the blasters.

And just like that. Pidge's plan begins to crumble.

"Damnit!" She grunts, slamming a hand on the console. She lifts her head to look at Hunk. "Your part done yet?"

"Y-yes. Yes! Just... The, uh--"

"We knew this could happen," she says, though she sounds nothing short of miserable as she says it. "Just let me send this out and we can..." She shakes her head. "I-I don't know. Just let me send this out."

"Pidge..."

The sounds of a struggle outside grow louder and Shiro hates to even _think_ that it sounds like it's not going in their favor.

"Pidge," Shiro warns. "We've got incoming."

"I just need another minute!" Pidge hisses. "Hunk's job is done, please. Please, let me finish mine! It'll be worth it, okay?!"

A strange, eerie sort of calm settles over Shiro then.

This already happened. And his body, his past self, has already decided what he's going to do.

He stands stall in front of Pidge, shielding her as best as he can from the Galra who push Matt and the Red Paladin aside, disregards Hunk on the other side of the room, and turns toward them.

The others seem to realize what he's doing just as one of the Galra moves in, Prorok's voice ringing out again somewhere out in the hallway.

"Shiro, buddy--"

"Shiro, just grab Pidge and--"

Shiro takes in one last breath.

He hears the whirr of the blaster before he feels the impact.

" _Shiro_!"

-

Shiro comes to doubled over, hand on his knee, breathing heavily. And he can't.

He can't seem to get enough air.

The whirring of the blaster still fills his ears, the yelling, the sound of Pidge, Hunk, and Matt's voices, calling his name. It's all so much, too much, he can't even begin to tell where he begins and where the noise _ends_.

Then there are hands on his face--cold, too cold, but almost pleasant in comparison to the flush that's taken over his face, the heat he swears he can still feel from the blaster.

"Shiro? Shiro?!"

Shiro gasps, but slowly, he begins to make sense of what the voice is saying to him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I should've warned you about that. I didn't..."

Finally, finally, Shiro manages to look up, finding the Red Paladin leaning over him, an expression he can't identify on his face. The Green Lion looms large behind him. "I didn't remember that happened then," he whispers. "I thought it'd be later, I..."

"It's fine," Shiro manages. With one last great big gulp of air, he straightens up, though the Red Paladin's cold, cold hands never leave his face. "It's fine. You warned me it wasn't a happy story."

It does nothing to erase the unhappy expression off the Red Paladin's face.

"I died," Shiro says abruptly, the realization hitting him all at once. He's surprised to find he's not actually surprised. He shouldn't be. He knew this already. He knew this. "I _died_. You weren't kidding when you said even we weren't safe from the curse."

"I wasn't." If anything, the Red Paladin looks more bothered by that than Shiro feels and he's...

Really not quite sure how to feel about that.

So he breathes in deep, clenches and unclenches his hand, and asks, "So how did I come back? I don't understand, how am I _here_ now?"

"The curse. It's why you came to the Castle of Lions in the first place now." He turns the flashlight over in his hands. "I still don't understand the magic the whole way yet or anything, but, uh..." And there's a hopeful note to his voice now. Barely there, but Shiro doesn't miss it. "Did you remember anything? I mean, I know you saw everything," he clarifies. "But did anything else come back? Anything else about that planet or. Or before or after that?"

Shiro holds back a sigh. There was that one moment in his bedroom in the castle, that one flash of _something_ in his dreams, a voice speaking to him. But that was with the Red Paladin himself, not with any of the memories he was meant to see. So does it even count?

He decides to keep that one tucked away for now.

"Not really, sorry. It was..." He rubs the side of his head. "I dunno? Felt a little more like I was watching a movie than anything that actually happened to me? Like I was just in the passenger seat." And there's no disguising the Red Paladin's crestfallen expression at that answer, even with Shiro going for a deliberately light tone. So he keeps talking, because he can't just leave him with that look on his face. "Maybe I really am remembering and the magic just works weird, I don't know. It was like... Sometimes I couldn't tell what I was thinking and what the me of the past was thinking, you know? Like the weirdest case of double vision I've had in my life."

The Red Paladin looks away, lips turning down in a thoughtful frown. "I don't know if it's supposed to work that way. But it was you either way. Makes sense it'd get confused. But if it'd worked, you should be remembering other things, too..."

While the Red Paladin seems to be chewing that over though, Shiro's got some more questions of his own brewing. And he doesn't last long before he's asking the first one, the one most prominent in his mind, even with the issue of his memories returning or not returning. "Hey, can I ask... What happened after I. Died?"

The Red Paladin blinks up at him, staring blankly for a moment. "Oh. Right," he says dully, and Shiro's stomach drops. Not good news, then. He tries to remind himself he already knew this. "They, uh, snuffed out the rest of the rebellion. The Galra found just about everyone. The Green Paladin did get a message out to Tarith, I think, in the time you bought her. It helped them, but it was too late for Zaherux by then." He bites his lip. "It was only a few more years till the castle got emptied out again."

Pidge was the Green Paladin then, whatever that means. Of course.

Shiro shuts his eyes, breathing in deeply. And out. In. And out.

He knew this. He was warned.

From the moment he opened his eyes on that planet, he knew things would end badly there.

But he can't help the way his heart squeezes in his chest, or the sting behind his eyes. He can't help but wish, so very, very dearly, that he could have done anything, anything at all, to change things there. The first time, the second time, it doesn't matter. He couldn't prevent it either time.

He didn't know them for long. But Pidge, Hunk, and Matt deserved better than that kind of death. There should have been _something_ he could have done.

"Shiro... You did a good thing," the Red Paladin tells him, voice soft. "The Green Paladin warned a lot of people."

Shiro shakes his head, grasping onto the first thing he can ask about. "Where did you go after that?" he asks.

His voice comes out faint and he has to clear his throat before he can quite get the whole sentence out, but the Red Paladin thankfully doesn't comment on it.

He just frowns deeper, his hands still turning that flashlight over and over. "What?"

"You said it was empty again a few years after that. Where did you go?"

"Nowhere," he says, as if it were obvious. "I can't leave the castle."

_What_.

"But you've been--" Shiro cuts himself off, looking down at his feet.

No. No, now that he thinks about it, he really did never see him outside the castle while on Zaherux. Every time was inside, not even anywhere near the doors. But that's... Is that just another part of this nebulous curse he keeps mentioning? The fact that he's apparently literally bound to this castle?

There's just too much he still doesn't know. How much do his own memories even really matter in the face of this so-called curse?

"What did you even do that whole time?" Shiro manages to ask, and he can't tell whether he anticipates or dreads the answer more.

The Red Paladin shifts on his feet, visibly uncomfortable. "I waited. I told you."

_Years? Decades?_ He was disorientated at the time. He knows that much. But that is what the Red Paladin said, isn't it?

Shiro lets out a shuddering breath. "I thought you spent that time with other people here the whole time. I didn't realize..." He runs his hand through his hair, tugging lightly at his fringe. "I didn't realize you spent so much time alone between people. Just... Just waiting!"

_For me?_ Shiro wants to ask, but the words can't seem to make their way past the slowly building horror in his throat.

The Red Paladin presses his lips together. "It's fine. I'm fine. I'm more worried about getting your memories back right now." His expression smooths out, into something almost thoughtful. "I don't know why the Green Lion didn't work, it really seemed like... With the Yellow Lion helping..."

As he speaks, the Red Paladin lifts his flashlight up to the statue, where the crystal's back to just a dull green color. "...It should have worked..."

But when he lowers his hand and shines the flashlight on Shiro, the beam of light, if anything, only seems to go through him easier than before, as if he's fading away even more.

Impossibly, the Red Paladin pales even further. "Your memories," he says suddenly, eyes practically boring a hole through Shiro. "We still have to make sure you get them back."

He's already turning around, shining his flashlight farther back into the room, when Shiro stops him, his hand on his shoulder. "Wait. Please. This is happening because the Green and Yellow Lions didn't help me remember anything?"

The Red Paladin doesn't turn to look at him, but he shakes his head, then nods stiffly. "I don't know. I think so."

"And what happens if I never get my memories back?"

"I'm not sure," he says, but there's a lie in his voice, the thin thread of fear weaving its way through it giving it away. "But I'm not letting it happen."

"Hey," Shiro says, trying for a lighter tone of voice. "What's the worst that could happen? It wouldn't be the first time I died, right?"

"Shiro!" The Red Paladin _does_ turn to look at him then, shaking his hand off his shoulder. "Don't say that. Nothing is going to happen to you. You're going to get your memories back and it'll be fine. And you'll find whoever you're looking for, right?"

The Red Paladin doesn't wait for an answer. He whirls right back around and strides forward, deeper into the room, while Shiro tries to recover himself.

Who he's looking for.

He swallows. That voice he thought he heard while on Zaherux. That voice that's been calling out to him this whole time.

The Red Paladin's right.

He needs to find him, no matter what it takes.

Even if... Even if the Red Paladin's single-minded devotion to helping Shiro is bringing up feelings he doesn't know what to do with. Even then, with his gentle hands and gentle words after Shiro came back from seeing his own death. His quiet, unwavering support.

Even then.

He can't think about this.

"Yeah. Okay. Then what now?" he calls out after the Red Paladin, already hurrying to catch up to him. "The Green Lion didn't work. And I thought you said the Yellow Lion was helping her."

"He was. But there's other lions."

Shiro follows the narrow path the Red Paladin and his flashlight cut through the dark, noting the way his steps only seem to pick up more and more speed the farther he walks, echoing louder and louder through the room. "The Blue Lion," he says abruptly. "You were here when the Blue Paladin was, too." He throws Shiro a look over his shoulder. "It was more recent, too. Maybe Zaherux was just too long ago by now."

"I take it things ended badly for the Blue Paladin, too?"

"Yes." The word comes out almost viciously, more of a hiss than a word. "Because of the curse," he says, for what feels like the hundredth time.

Shiro would really, really like the opportunity to find out _anything_ about the curse beyond all these cryptic moments. If only he had the time and weren't literally fading away.

With his longer stride, Shiro still has to hurry to catch up to the Red Paladin when he stops, his flashlight shining up into another towering lion statue. This one's a dull blue color, and not quite the same size as the green one, but still very much part of a matched set.

"Are you ready?" the Red Paladin asks him, from where he's already got his hand hovering close to the statue's flank.

He keeps doing that, too. Asking. He might insist, he might plead, but he still lets Shiro make his own decisions about seeing his memories.

Even as he is now, keyed up and ready to go, Shiro gets the feeling that if he asked, _really_ asked, the Red Paladin would back away from the Blue Lion. He'd probably complain. He'd probably try to change his mind.

But he'd still let Shiro make the decision.

He knows that more than he knows his own memories right now.

So Shiro nods but, before reaching out for this one, something else from his time in Zaherux comes back to the surface. "Yeah, but I want to ask you something first. How many lions are there? If there's the Green, Yellow, and Blue Paladins, and you and me, does that make five?"

The Red Paladin's shoulders tense. "Yeah. But the Red and Black Lions are, um, damaged. They aren't in any condition for any of this."

"Do they have anything to do with..." He licks his lips. Even thinking the name sends a strange little jolt through him, but he needs to ask. "With Voltron? Does that have anything to do with how they got damaged, too?"

The Red Paladin stares at him. "Voltron?" he asks and Shiro's stomach sinks down to his feet. "I don't know? Where'd you hear that name?"

"Zaherux. Pidge... The Green Paladin," he corrects himself, remembering how he couldn't seem to remember anyone's given names before." She was talking about it."

The Red Paladin shrugs. "I don't know why she would. The name doesn't ring a bell."

Another jolt, like every time Shiro pushes himself to try to remember his past.

This isn't right. Something is wrong about that answer, he just knows it.

But when Shiro doesn't immediately speak again, the Red Paladin just turns to the Blue Lion again, seemingly unconcerned. "Ready?" he asks again.

Shiro breathes in and tucks away the questions for the moment. Maybe the memories here will give him a better clue. So, without another word, he reaches out to press the palm of his hand against the statue.

The light's slower than it was with the Green Lion. Softer. Soft enough Shiro doesn't even need to close his eyes against the glare.

He just watches as the blue light slowly, so very slowly, fills the room, until it's almost like sinking underwater.

And he's gone.

-

The Red Paladin isn't with him when this memory starts.

It takes Shiro a moment to realize that things are already in motion around him, rather than the stillness he found in his bedroom in the castle the other time.

Instead, he's in a space pod this time, leaning back in an uncomfortable bench by the small window. And, immediately, he can feel what's different about his body this time.

He's still got the dark metal prosthetic, still sore where it meets the skin of his upper arm, and he still feels like he's about the same height and build as before. But his hair falls heavy over his shoulder in a thick dark braid interspersed with enough white to have him raising his eyebrows in surprise. He remembers spotting the tuft of white in his hair in the other memories, but he also remembers that he kept it short and neat there, cropped close to his scalp.

He didn't think he was the type to let his hair grow out this long.

But that's the least of his concerns right now.

The woman beside him on the bench is speaking, all soft words and careful inflection. "Regardless, I'm sure it won't be an issue at all, Coran," she's saying to the man on the bench in front of theirs. A pale redheaded man with an impressive mustache, he finds once he lifts his eyes from his own hair. Another man, darker-skinned, sits beside him, though he's snoozing on Coran's shoulder. "There's no need to worry. Really."

"Now, Miss Allura," the man, Coran, says, tone cajoling. "That may be so, but it's been a truly staggering amount of deca-phoebs since anyone of Altean descent even set foot on Theyar. And now there'll be two of you? I really do feel it'd be best to be cautious, at least until after the wedding."

Allura laughs softly. " _Coran_. That's what I've got Shiro for, isn't it?" she says, turning a bright smile on him now. "Or are you doubting my own bodyguard's ability?"

And Shiro gets his first good look at this Allura. She's beautiful, certainly, pale hair falling in large curls down her back and painted-on pink marks on her cheeks, under her clear blue eyes.

He doesn't remember her. Or Coran. But he can tell his past self felt a sort of friendly affection for the both of them, judging by the warm feeling rising in his chest.

It's nice, if still mostly unfamiliar in this context.

Coran scoffs, waving a hand. "Well, you certainly chose a pretty bodyguard, I suppose." At both Shiro and Allura's raised eyebrows, he concedes, "And capable, yes, yes, but he mustn't lose focus when we're speaking of _Alteans_ in a Galra-controlled planet. A stronghold! None of us can afford to lose focus here." He pulls at one of the ends of his mustache, eyebrows twitching. "If my poor pop-pop Raible Garret had ever known about this, oh, he'd be heartbroken! Scandalized!"

"Isn't he... still alive?" Allura asks hesitantly.

"Well, yes, but he doesn't know about any of this!" He sniffs. "And won't if I have any say in it!"

"Coran. I promise I won't let her out of my sight," Shiro promises him then, though amusement still colors his words. Maybe he knew this Raible Garret. Or maybe Coran just brings it out in him, he doesn't know.

He gets the feeling it's a conversation they've already had plenty of times, in any case, if only because of the way Allura rolls her eyes fondly. "Enough," she says lightly, though there's a definite tone of finality to it. "It won't be long, in any case. By this time next week, Lotor and I will be married and that will be the end of that part of it all. He has much more Galra support than I do." The way her voice twists at the word _Galra_ , disgust coloring the edges of the word, is unmistakable. It's enough that Shiro sits up straighter, throwing a cautious eye at the Galra pilot on the other side of the pod.

Thankfully, she doesn't seem to hear any of their conversation, or at least not pay any mind to it.

But when he turns back to Coran and Allura, he finds Coran aiming an anxious look at her, shaking his head minutely. "Not right now, please, Miss. Surely it can wait for after the wedding."

"After the wedding," Allura repeats bitterly, folding her hands neatly on her lap. She does, nonetheless, still lower her voice significantly. "Yes. Perhaps after the wedding we can finally take back some of what we've lost."

"If Lotor's as good as his word."

"He will be," she says firmly, leaving no room for argument, and Shiro doesn't miss the way her hands clench into fists. "Whatever you may think of him, he's still as Altean as I am. He _must_ want this to succeed as much as I do." She sighs. "This is why the marriage was arranged in the first place, Coran. No one else could possibly understand the way he does."

"He's also named after a Galran prince," Coran points out gently. "Who's to say his family hasn't Prince Lotor someone for him to emulate, eh?"

"As much as he's descended from an Altean alchemist! From one of the ones whose descendants were captured by the Galra for their research facilities!" she hisses in return. "What better example to emulate? And what better reason to _not_ emulate his Galra heritage?"

Inwardly, Shiro swallows. He has no idea just what kind of situation he's landed himself into this time, and with so little warning. But he gets the distinct feeling he's ended up with something a little more complicated than kidnapped researchers and a brewing rebellion.

He's not even sure what Alteans _are_ , much less what their relationship to the Galra is. Even if his past self definitely must have known.

"Without the _rebels_ ," Allura goes on, her voice deathly soft now. "Without that message from them, his ancestor never would have left Tarith. He knows how important this is."

"That was such a long time ago now. His family's been with the Galra all along since!"

"Three hundred deca-phoebs ago," Allura mutters. "Certainly not enough time to forget the significance."

"Exactly three hundred and forty-seven," Coran says. He looks at Shiro apologetically. "I'm not quite sure how much that is in Earth years."

"It's fine," Shiro interrupts softly, his eyes on the window where the planet is rising up to meet them. It's a beautiful planet, he notes, more ocean than land. "But, guys, we're going to have to save it for once we're actually in the castle. We're almost there."

Allura sits up straighter, all prim and proper, and nods. "Yes, of course. Thank you, Shiro," she says, her voice turning politely distant.

Coran mimics her, though privately, Shiro has to admit the end result is nowhere near as regal as Allura's. Honestly, it's a little goofy, but he gets the feeling he shouldn't point that out to Coran.

Especially not when he's _still_ got that other man snoring next to him.

Shiro narrows his eyes at him, trying to get a better look at the man's features where he's got his face smushed up against Coran's shoulder.

Yeah. He's got no idea who that is.

But Coran and Allura make no mention of his sleeping and Shiro's body doesn't seem about to point it out either, so he just settles back and sets his gaze out the window again.

They're silent the rest of the way down to the planet, until their pod begins landing procedures at a spaceport by the seaside, and finally, _finally_ the man beside Coran startles awake with a snort.

"Wha--" He straightens up, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. "What'd I miss, where are we, have we--"

He speaks quickly enough that the words begin to jumble together to Shiro's ears, but Allura and Coran seem to understand him well enough.

"We're at Theyar, Lance," Allura tells him, looking like she's holding back a smile. "You fell asleep a varga into the trip."

"Whoa," Lance says, eyes widening. Then, in a louder tone, slowly filling with horror. "Wait, wait, wait, are you telling me I just slept through that? The whole thing? And you just _let_ me?! _Seriously_? For like a bazillion varga?"

Shiro raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "The whole trip was five varga."

"Yeah? That's what I said."

"Well, you looked so tired, it seemed like a right shame to just wake you up, then. Especially when everything was so quiet while you slept."

Lance frowns, pulling at the lapels of his formal jacket, and Shiro begins to count slowly backwards from ten in his head.

He's beginning to get the idea here.

" _Hey_! Wait a minute! Now, I know you're not trying to say I was talking too--"

The pod jolts, the last sign that they've safely landed in Theyar, Shiro supposes, and Lance jolts in surprise right along with the pod.

It's only moments, not long enough for any kind of conversation--or accusations--to start up again, until the pilot stands, the low heels of her boots clicking softly against the floor of the pod.

"We're here," she says, leaning over the partition between the cockpit and the passenger benches, her dark purple hair falling over her shoulders as she does so, small horns just barely visible. "Mister Lotor should already be expecting you in the port."

"Thank you," Allura says primly, gracefully rising to her feet. "My bodyguard will go out first with me, if that won't be a problem?" Her words are polite, but her tone says she'll be more than displeased if there _is_ a problem.

But the pilot only shakes her head and moves to lead Allura and Shiro out the door, Coran and Lance trailing a respectful distance behind.

Though Shiro has to admit he still doesn't have the slightest idea what he's doing here--and, oh, what he would give for the Red Paladin to show up right now--his body falls into step easily enough. The braid feels far too heavy on his head, over his shoulder, but he doesn't break his stride, just follows Allura out the pod easily enough, slightly behind and to the side of her.

The smell of the ocean's the first thing that hits him, with a faceful of the ocean breeze drifting through the area.

It's not quite nostalgic. He doesn't know if what he's feeling is a memory or something else, but it's a pleasant feeling, in any case, and it stirs at something in him that he can't quite name. He thinks he might like it, if when he went back to the present, the castle was in this planet again. However that works.

Striding behind Allura as he is though, he has little time to take in the sights or smells, only managing to catch a glimpse of a rocky shore, waves lapping against it, before his attention is captured by the armored group of Galra their pilot places herself beside.

Or rather, the group of Galra where she places herself beside one particular man who doesn't quite look the same as all the others.

"Thank you, Acxa," he tells her, then turns to face them.

His skin's more or less the same color as most Galra, if somewhat of a duller color, and his sclera are just as yellow as the rest. But his pupils are the same clear blue as Allura's own and his pale hair isn't quite a shade he saw on any of the Galra in the research facility in the other castle.

Most important, perhaps, are the delicately pointed ears, and the painted on green marks under his eyes.

This must be Lotor. Allura's fiancé.

Lotor bows his head deeply, a hand coming to rest at his chest, before he reaches out to grasp Allura's hand in her own, brushing his lips against her knuckles.

He can hear Coran and Lance coming up behind them, Lance sputtering something under his breath, but he doesn't turn to look at them, his entire focus on Lotor and Allura.

"Miss Allura," Lotor says, silky smooth. "It is truly such a pleasure to finally have you here in Theyar."

"The pleasure's all mine," Allura says in return, a polite smile on her face. "I truly do look forward to our alliance."

"As do I," he says brightly, straightening up and releasing her hand. "But come, come. It's only a short walk from here to the castle. I thought you might enjoy taking in the sights."

Allura hums in answer and Shiro tunes out the rest of their conversation as their party begins the trek up a small hill, where, once he looks up, he finds the castle is perched on this time.

There really must be something about this castle and high places.

He doesn't stray away from Allura, but he keeps a careful eye on the Galra that surround them, especially on the ones that eye Shiro suspiciously. It might be the first time some of them have seen a human, he reasons, along with Lance, but he'd rather not take any chances, and he gets the feeling his past self didn't either.

He doesn't see anyone he recognizes from his last stints at the castle among them and that's... That's fine. The Red Paladin warned him what happens to everyone who comes to this castle. But, he has to grudgingly admit to himself, maybe it's not any of the _Galra_ he's hoping to catch a glimpse of.

He mentally shakes his head. No. He's got no _time_ for that kind of fanciful thought.

At the entrance to the castle, where the great doors are flung wide open, another two groups of armored Galra flank the entrance, just inside the threshold. 

And that's where he freezes in place, abruptly enough that Lance walks right into him with an aggrieved groan. "What the cheese, Shiro?" he mutters, before moving around him, a suspicious, halfway wounded, look in his eye.

Shiro doesn't even register it, not when his eyes are still drawn to a corner of the formation of Galra at the right side of the doors. Certainly not when his eyes might still be playing tricks on him.

He blinks once, hard, in an attempt to clear his vision, and moves to hurry after Allura and Lotor again.

But was that...

Was that a flash of red and white armor he saw?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! ♥


	5. Chapter 5

Though he keeps an eye out, Shiro can't seem to catch sight of the Red Paladin for the rest of the day, either version of him. It's more than a little disquieting, considering how quickly he showed up in Zaherux, but Shiro can't exactly call for him right now. Instead, he has to stick close to Allura, while their pilot--Acxa, Lotor said her name was--leads Coran and Lance off on a tour of the castle and its grounds. Technically, it's Lotor who should be giving all of them a tour of the place, but he quickly makes his excuses and slips away with Allura, saying something about showing her his research, and Shiro finds himself with no choice but to follow them, a silent shadow.

He keeps himself to a respectable distance, far enough away he can't hear their hushed conversation, but close enough he'll be able to clearly hear any raised voices or spot any sudden movements. The movement seems ingrained in this version of himself, and he can only conclude he's been Allura's bodyguard for a while now.

For whatever reason that is.

But his attention is divided, not how he thinks a bodyguard should probably act. More often than not, he finds his eyes wandering, searching for another flash of red and white, and he can only hope his past self had enough of a handle on the situation that he won't regret that.

Lotor leads them deeper and deeper into the castle, into parts of it that Shiro recognizes as ones only the Galra could access on Zaherux. Deeper corridors, lined with more and more rooms, until Lotor leads them to a very end of a long hallway. Wide double doors--not the same ones the Red Paladin led him to the first time, he notes--greet them there, opening into a long, long room, with another long table at its center, surrounded by rows upon rows of shelves.

At least there's a handful of armchairs near the entrance, he notes.

"Welcome to the library," Lotor says, all careful grace. "I thought this might be the part of the castle that would interest you the most."

Shiro raises an eyebrow, but Allura's eyes widen in interest and, before he can even say a single word to her, she's striding forward to the table even before Lotor. With careful hands, she lifts a large, shining orb from the table, holding it up to the light. "This is Altean," she tells Lotor, voice full of wonder. "This is ancient Altean."

Lotor smiles, coming up behind her. "From Altea itself, I am led to believe. An artefact that once belonged to one of my Altean ancestors."

Allura sucks in an audible breath. "We've tried, of course--Coran and I--to gather whatever we could from Altea. But there is so little that could be salvaged. And most of what we've found has been in pieces, not..." She waves a hand over the orb and, when a projection of a flower just about blooms from it, she gasps in delight. "It's an Altean flower! The, ah, the juniper berries, yes?" she says excitedly, grinning up at Lotor. "None of these survived, did they?"

"Not as far as I know."

"And you've got more of this sort of thing?"

Frankly, Shiro hasn't the slightest idea what that artefact is supposed to be, but he leaves them to it, removing himself to an inconspicuous corner where he can still keep an eye on them.

But Lotor smiles at her, inclining his head. It's a kind smile, indulgent, but Shiro knows better than to let his guard down at even that sight. "As many as this sort of thing as I could find. I'll not let everything about our heritage be completely lost while I still draw breath."

"And neither will I," Allura mutters, that same tense bitterness to her voice from back in the airship. She brightens soon enough though, as she carefully sets down the orb again--its projection disappearing--and she turns to face Lotor, back against the table. "Could I possibly..."

"We are to be married," Lotor tells her gently. "Anything that is mine, you may also see."

"Thank you," Allura says emphatically. She pauses, then turns searching eyes on Shiro. "We'll just be looking around this room, Shiro. Take some time to rest from our trip, all right?"

"In this room, right?" he asks her with a pointed look. Right. There was that promise to not let her out of his sight.

She huffs out a laugh, but seems to get his meaning easily enough. "Of course. Thank you, Shiro."

And she's off, chattering, politely, of course, with Lotor of things that Shiro can't even begin to understand--though he does wonder if this past version of him would. He stays standing at first, angling himself between the shelves in such a way that he can still keep an eye on Allura and Lotor. But soon enough, he's grabbing one of the armchairs to move it closer to where he can see them. Might as well do that much that Allura asked of him.

But he's just set his hands on the arms of one of the chairs, just barely begun to even move it, when a flash of motion catches his eye. A soft thump.

He breathes in, and out, and slowly, very slowly, straightens himself up.

That came from the opposite direction as Allura and Lotor.

He bites his lip. He can't let Allura out of his sight, that much has been made clear to him since he arrived in these memories. But he gets the feeling he can't exactly let any possible danger just go unattended just because he wouldn't leave Allura's side.

So, with one more look over his shoulder, finding Allura and Lotor deep in conversation over a tablet this time, Shiro carefully makes his way toward the source of the sound.

He weaves between the shelves, careful not to disturb any of the artefacts. The room's turning out to be a lot wider and longer than Shiro gave it credit for, but he presses on nonetheless, until he reaches another little clearing between the shelves, another trio of armchairs set out around a low table.

And a flash of dark hair and bright eyes. A man in red and white armor, unlike in the last planet.

Shiro's breath catches in his throat.

There's the man he's been looking for. And he spots Shiro immediately.

"Shiro," he whispers and of course. Of course he knows him here, too. Where and when does the Red Paladin not know him?

But his name comes out in a weak voice, more tired than surprised.

Shiro frowns at the Red Paladin and, there's still somewhat of a disconnect with this body, a strange sort of distance, but he could swear he feels a shiver go down his spine.

The Red Paladin seems... different from last time. He's not the same as the man Shiro's met in the present, but there's just something about him that's not quite the same as the man he met in the research facility either.

There was more color to his cheeks in Zaherux, a brighter look in his eyes, and though he'd have still been surprised to see him turn all sunshine and roses even then, he seemed more prone to smiling. Like any other man in his twenties.

But now... It's not quite the eerie paleness of the present, but it's like the color's being slowly leeched from his skin, his cheeks growing gaunter somehow.

And when Shiro steps closer, the Red Paladin raising his eyebrows, he could swear the temperature in the room drops several degrees.

But that doesn't make sense somewhere climate-controlled like the castle.

But neither does the way the world suddenly goes sideways. A flash of purple behind his eyelids, a glimpse of a star-strewn field, and he's back in the library, the Red Paladin still staring at him like no time has passed at all.

He opens his mouth to speak. And snaps his mouth shut right after when he realizes he _can_. That distance, that disconnect. It's gone.

He's just Shiro. Himself.

And he's striding forward the very second he realizes, closing the distance between him and an increasingly perturbed-looking Red Paladin. He can't let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

"Hey," Shiro says softly, and dares to put a hand on the Red Paladin's shoulder, taking in the slightly dazed look in his eyes, before he slides them shut. He reminds himself this isn't exactly the same man as the one he knows in the present, not yet, but he has _control_ now. He absolutely has to take this chance. "Are you feeling okay? I know it's been a while since we saw each other."

The Red Paladin's eyes fly open in surprise and he sways lightly on the spot. Concerned, Shiro lets his hand tighten around his shoulder.

"What are you talking about?" the Red Paladin breathes. "You're not supposed to..." A painfully hopeful expression enters his eyes then. "Shiro," he says, almost desperately. "Do you know why you're here? Is anything coming back? Since when did--"

But that's the end of it.

A sharp pain sears through his head, sudden and intense enough to have him groaning and staggering back from the Red Paladin.

"Shiro!" The Red Paladin's at his side again in an instant, setting his hands gingerly on Shiro's arms. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

But he can already tell the moment's over. And it's just _too soon_.

When he straightens up, a hand to his temple, he blinks down at the Red Paladin in polite confusion. And he could just kick himself for the way the hope drains from his eyes right then and there.

Was he supposed to remember him then? Was the Red Paladin expecting something?

"Everything okay?" he asks, like he's not quite sure when the Red Paladin got so close.

And he's not, he realizes. That was all _him_ , the him from the present.

"Uh," the Red Paladin says, something shifting behind his eyes. "Yeah. Just kind of looked like you were having trouble for a second there. Looks like you're all right now though."

"...Yeah. Yeah, thanks." Shiro smiles at him. The Red Paladin doesn't smile back. "Do we know each other?" he asks, and wishes so dearly he could keep his mouth shut now, at the slight spark of hope that enters the Red Paladin's eyes again. "You knew my name," he goes on to say, and watches how it's extinguished once again.

"No," the Red Paladin says, voice wooden. "I just heard about Miss Allura's bodyguard, that's all. I'm..."

He introduces himself, just his name, nothing more. No explanation, no hint at what he does in the castle. It doesn't matter. Shiro still doesn't hear the name.

But he shakes his head right after, brow furrowed as he steps away. "They'll probably be looking for you soon," he mumbles, not quite looking at Shiro.

"Right." Shiro chuckles. "Right, I can't believe I got so distracted like that, I should head back to keeping an eye on Allura."

"Yeah." The Red Paladin nods. "I think she and Lotor can't have gone too far in here, the room isn't as big as it seems." A weak smile. "You could probably still catch up to them. Just..." The smile doesn't last. His lips thin, and it takes Shiro a moment to realize that he's still a little shaky, almost imperceptibly so. "Just be careful when you're out there with everyone, okay? Prorok's not going to happy when he hears about the..." He furrows his brow. "...About the rebels."

Shiro wishes, so dearly, that he could wrest back control for just a second again. There's something about the Red Paladin's voice then, about the unsteady way the words are suddenly coming out, that just chills him to the bone.

Prorok isn't here this time. He knows that already. There are no researchers in an icy planet, no possible plans to take more and more of them away to Central Command, and a brewing rebellion intent on stopping that. It's just Allura and Lotor this time. There isn't...

But his past self doesn't remember any of that. He just leans in closer, eyes concerned. "Are you sure you're okay, buddy? I don't really know what you're talking about..."

The Red Paladin startles, then quickly shakes his head. "No, uh. Never mind." He plasters on what Shiro supposes he means to be a smile, though the end result really looks more like he maybe once heard someone describe what a smile looks like. "Just go look for them, okay? I've got some work to do, too, I shouldn't keep you like this."

"All right." Shiro claps a hand on the Red Paladin's shoulder--and it's cold, it really is colder than it should be--and steps away. "Just be careful on your way there, okay? And thanks again--"

And the world warps away for a second again, just long enough for him to say the Red Paladin's name.

And that sticks with him, the whole way back to the other side of the library.

His past self knows the Red Paladin's name. He didn't think he could ever be jealous of himself.

Guilt immediately floods him at the thought.

It's someone else. It's someone else he should be focusing on, the person that drew him to this castle in the first place. Not on the Red Paladin. Even if he doesn't even know where to begin looking for this person, still.

It might hurt the Red Paladin. He really, really doesn't know, and he really, really doesn't want to hurt him. But just _thinking_ of this person is something else, an urgency taking over every fiber of his being.

He can't just abandon him for the Red Paladin.

Even if it might hurt him.

Later though, when Allura and Lotor have said their goodbyes for the night and he's back in the bedroom by Allura's, he drops down onto the lone chair and "This didn't happen the first time around, did it?" he asks the air, and isn't even surprised to find he can ask.

Nothing in this whole thing is really making sense anymore.

It's only seconds until he feels the presence of the Red Paladin, the present one, _his_ Paladin, behind him again. Finally, for the first time since he's arrived here. "No," the Red Paladin says, just as shaky as his past self. "I didn't even think you could take control like that."

The Red Paladin rests his hands on the back of the chair, not quite touching Shiro. "I'm sorry I wasn't with you when these memories started. I... don't really know what happened."

Shiro turns his head, finding the Red Paladin's pinched expression in the dim light of the bedroom, looking Shiro straight in the eye. "Were you okay? You looked a little..." He bites his lip, and decides to change tacks. "Could you see everything that was going on?"

"No..." His eyes go distant then, his thumbs rubbing circles into the backrest. "At first I thought something went wrong. I couldn't see anything. It was all dark until you were talking to..." And his voice goes a little strange, more than a little flustered, when he says, "To me. I don't know what happened."

Shiro sighs, inclining his head slightly. And it's strange, still, the weight of the braid over his shoulder, but he pushes it back, as he asks, "I still don't really get how the whole curse works. Maybe it's pushing back against us?"

"Maybe," the Red Paladin says, expression growing troubled. "The magic's been in the castle so long by now that I don't know _what_ it can do. But it's supposed to let me show you your memories. I don't get why it'd just push me out..." He huffs out a breath, cheeks puffing out, and Shiro can't help but smile despite the situation.

It's... Different from the expressions he's been showing Shiro so far. Cute, even.

"We'll figure it out, right?" Shiro asks him. "That's what we're here for, isn't it? Getting back my memories and..." _Possibly getting ourselves killed. Again._

He figures he probably shouldn't mention that part.

The Red Paladin eyes him carefully, eyebrows raised, before his expression smooths out into a gentler one. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right." He lowers his head and, when he speaks now, his voice is almost closer to that of the man he met on Zaherux. Lighter, somehow. "Maybe it just means you're really going to remember this time, huh? Maybe the castle can tell."

"Maybe." It's all still unfamiliar, still more like seeing someone else's slideshow than seeing his own memories, but it's barely been a day.

He could still be right.

Shiro straightens in his seat. And instantly leans back, sucking in a surprised gasp, when the motion puts him only inches away from the Red Paladin's face. Definitely not a polite distance. Nope.

And definitely something he should have anticipated.

_Nice going._

Shiro casts about for anything else to say. "What if it doesn't work this time either though? How many times are you going to keep showing me memories like this?"

"As many times as it takes," he answers him, easily, as if the answer were obvious.

Shiro blinks and he could swear, he could just swear, he catches another glimpse of that star-strewn field behind his eyelids.

But he doesn't get to respond.

A loud clatter, a yell, and he's shooting up to his feet, just about knocking his forehead against the Red Paladin's. The Red Paladin, who's looking just as flustered as Shiro feels.

It takes only a moment to realize the sound is coming from Allura's room.

He's not quite sure which version of him is in control anymore, but Shiro takes off at a run straight out of his room, not realizing at first that the Red Paladin isn't on his heels.

Urgent as it sounds, he doesn't bother to call for Coran or Lance and doesn't bother to knock. He just flings the doors wide open and rushes into Allura's room.

Only to freeze when he takes in the sight in front of him.

Allura's on her bed, on her back, wide awake. And her hands are wrapped around another pair of hands. Another pair of hands that are wrapped tightly around her neck. In the dark, only a sliver of light making it past Allura's parted curtains, he can't make out who those hands belong to, but the figure's slim, with shoulder-length hair, and only seems to lean more firmly against Allura at the sight of Shiro.

"Don't!" Allura gasps when Shiro makes to move, to push the figure off, to drag Allura away, _anything_. "We..." she wheezes out. "Are having a conversation here, aren't we? If you would just..." She visibly tightens her grip on the hands around her neck and, with a motion that looks almost effortless, holds them up to hover mere centimeters away from her neck. "...allow me the air to breathe."

The figure lets out a surprised grunt, staring down intently at their joined hands.

"I've..." Allura coughs. "...Inherited more from the ancient Alteans than you probably think." Somehow, she still manages to sound just the slightest bit smug. "Please stay where you are, Shiro. _Acxa_ and I will resolve this."

Shiro starts and, as his eyes finally begin to adjust to the near darkness, he realizes Allura is right. That _is_ their shuttle pilot leaning over her on the bed, Acxa.

"Did Lotor send you?" he demands, as she seems inclined to do no more than engage in a staring contest with Allura. "He trusted you enough to bring us from our ship, didn't he?"

"He doesn't know I'm here," she says at length, never taking her eyes off Allura. "He wouldn't be happy about me being here."

"Then you'd best tell me why you're here quickly," Allura says, an edge of steel creeping into her voice. "Before I throw you across the room. I'll tell Lotor about this by tomorrow, in any case, and I doubt he'll need your services for much longer once he knows."

Acxa sighs, but doesn't move, and it's with great difficulty that Shiro keeps himself from moving forward and getting her off Allura. Acxa's very clearly got nothing to lose now, but at least he's beginning to see Allura can more than take care of herself.

"It's nothing personal," Acxa says, and there's something almost like real regret in her voice. It doesn't actually make Shiro feel any better. "It's all about stopping Lotor."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." She grunts. "What is it he lured you into this marriage with? Restoring Altean culture? A promise like that?"

"Yes," Allura says firmly, lifting her head until her face is only inches from Acxa's own. "And I have every intention of seeing it through. The Galra--" And here, in Acxa's grasp, she doesn't bother to hide the disdain in her voice. "--Have taken everything they could from us. But if we hope to push them back someday, we _must_ restore as much as we can of everything that's been lost."

"That's pretty bold for someone whose fiancé is half-Galra to say."

"As are you. But then, I suppose that's put us on more of an even playing field now, yes?"

Finally, _finally_ Acxa sits back on her heels by Allura's side, and Allura pushes herself up to a sitting position.

And Shiro can't stay back anymore. He strides forward, stopping at Allura's beside, and makes very certain that Acxa catches sight of him.

She only frowns up at him, but just for a second. She seems to have eyes only for Allura.

"You think Lotor's going to support you," she says slowly, as if testing out every word before speaking it. 

"I'm certain of it. He wishes to see as much as possible restored of Altea as much as I do. And I'd very much like to know why you're against that, if you work for _him_."

"And why you're trying to kill his fiancée," Shiro cuts in dryly.

"I told you." A hint of frustration enters Acxa's tone now, and she only sounds all the more insistent as she keeps speaking. "It's nothing personal, I don't _actually_ want to hurt you. It's about stopping him. You have no idea what he's done to get as far as he has!"

"Then _enlighten_ me!"

"He's been _using_ us!" Acxa all but yells. "Do you know how much quintessence it takes to restore some of those artefacts? They haven't just been sitting around for centuries fully functional! And do you know where he's been taking all of that quintessence from?"

"No," Allura breathes, and Shiro can't tell if it's an answer or a denial.

But he thinks he can understand what Acxa's getting at. And it paints a grim picture.

"It started when we came to this castle. None of those artefacts of his even _worked_ before," Acxa grits out, running a hand roughly through her hair. She snorts. "Maybe we should've known the whole thing about this castle being cursed was real. But people started disappearing, one by one. Starting with _my mother_ ," she hisses. "She was Galra. Plenty of quintessence in full Galra, I hear."

"That's ridiculous," Allura says quickly. "He wouldn't. It is not a crime to try to restore what little we can find of our ancestors. And besides, it's precisely the Galra we should be working against, not--"

"--Not draining them of their quintessence! It wasn't just Galra anyway! There's plenty of people that have disappeared that aren't. You want to sacrifice every species for Altea? Is that what you and Lotor have been planning?"

"There is quite a lot I'm willing to do for Altea." Allura's voice trembles. "But I would never rid the universe of another species just to save my own."

"Then maybe you should have that conversation with Lotor."

"You--"

"Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa," Shiro cuts in, holding up his hands. "Back up. Can we talk about what this has to do with trying to kill _Allura_?"

A pause, and Acxa heaves out a sigh. "I was going to frame him," she whispers, looking away. "Not even a Galran general's son can escape punishment if the scene's convincing enough." She turns a sour look on the both of them. "This was just the first part of it, I had the rest of the night. I'd just been waiting for you to finally show up."

"Didn't really count on how strong Allura is, huh?"

"Apparently not." She looks back at Allura. "But I wasn't really counting on her believing me either."

"It looks to me like you've been working for him for a long time. You'd really do that?" Shiro asks carefully, after a pause.

Acxa squeezes her eyes shut. "I don't want to. And I'm sorry you had to get mixed up in it," she says with a nod toward Allura. "But I have to. He's _changed_ since we moved into this castle. He really, really has."

"You said something about a curse..." Allura whispers.

Acxa huffs. "It sounds insane, right? But everything about this place is just wrong. Did you know I went digging through the records of this castle once? In one of the older computers." She opens her eyes and her face is ashen now, her lips pressed together tightly. "I found records that said someone named _Acxa_ worked for someone named _Lotor_. Records older than any of us! This castle is insane. I don't..."

"I think you should leave," Shiro says, watching the uncertain emotions play out across Allura's face. He's not in control, he finally realizes, because he'd like nothing more than to follow that line of questioning, to find how that fits into everything the Red Paladin's told him.

"Ask him to show you," Acxa says to Allura, rather than answering Shiro. "Ask him how he gets it all working."

"Please, leave," Allura says, voice firmer now. "I won't tell him of what you've done just yet. But get out of my room."

Acxa whispers something in Allura's ear, then slowly, rises from the bed. "We can talk again later," she says stiffly.

And with that, she's gone, leaving Allura staring at the far wall of the room and Shiro standing uncertainly by her bed.

"Allura..."

"I'm quite all right, Shiro. Thank you for showing up so quickly."

She's lying. He can see the way her hands shake where they grip the sheets tightly. He just can't tell if it's in anger or fear.

Anger, maybe. He thinks.

"Do you believe her?" he asks her, voice gentle, as he drops down to perch on the edge of her bed.

She shakes her head. "I don't know. I need to speak to Coran." Allura looks up at him then, her hair falling around her face. "You didn't see all of what Lotor had in that library, Shiro. More of Altea than I ever thought I'd see in my lifetime. There is, truly, so much we could do with all of that. But..." She shudders. "If Acxa is telling the truth, I cannot allow that either. There _must_ be another way. I'm sure there _is_ another way."

Shiro nods. "If anyone can find another way, it's you and Coran."

"Yes. Yes, of course," she says faintly, already looking away from Shiro. Then, something about her expression hardens, the line of her shoulders stiffening. "I'll speak to Lotor tomorrow. With Coran."

"I'll be--"

"No. Take the day for yourself. Spend it with Lance, if you like. But I will be all right without you there, I promise you that."

"Allura..."

She smiles at him, a small, cautious thing. "You've been a very good friend to me, Shiro. I'm not trying to push you away or anything of the sort. But..." Her shoulders slump. "I think this is something we need to take care of ourselves. Please. If what Acxa says is true, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't put an end to it myself. Especially after everything today..."

"You know you don't _have_ to do this alone or anything noble like that," he tries, aiming for a joke.

She laughs softly. "Oh, I won't. I told you, Coran will be there."

"Well, thank goodness for that."

She laughs louder now, leaning her shoulder against his. "Don't look so glum though, Shiro. Perhaps our stay here will be much shorter than we planned and Coran's, ah, pop-pop Raible can rest easy."

It's not funny. It's really not. But he finds himself laughing softly along with her.

It's only then, once their laughter's died down, that Shiro realizes. The Red Paladin's disappeared again.

-

He doesn't see Allura or Coran at breakfast the next morning, in the private room that's been set aside for them. Instead, he's informed by a stern-looking Galra that Miss Allura has chosen to take breakfast privately with Mister Lotor and Coran.

So much for one last attempt at talking her out of it.

There's no sign of Acxa anywhere either, though he makes sure to keep an eye out for her. Not that he was expecting otherwise though. Shiro figures she'll lie low for the rest of the day, at least until she knows Lotor and Allura have spoken.

Who he _does_ find is Lance, looking entirely too refreshed for someone who had as long a day as they did yesterday, even without having to deal with midnight assassination attempts.

He's as chatty as usual during breakfast, even if there is just the slightest nervous edge to his voice. And it doesn't take a genius to realize that means Allura and Coran must have let him in on at least some part of the plan for today.

It's all the more obvious when he immediately, practically latches himself onto Shiro's side when he leaves the breakfast room, still chattering a mile a minute. They cross the hallways, past a lounge and another dining room, until finally settling on yet another lounge, and Lance is still talking.

Shiro lets him talk, about anything and nothing, keeping silent more often than not. To his surprise, he's finding the constant stream of chatter is almost... soothing, somehow. He doesn't have to think too hard while Lance is speaking. Not about his missing memories, not about Allura and Lotor and Acxa, and certainly not about the Red Paladin. Or his own missing, muddled memories.

He even finds himself smiling halfway through Lance explaining just _how_ the seaside on Theyar compares to the seaside on his own homeplanet--not Earth, it turns out--and how he's just dying to show him, Coran, and Allura the shores he grew up by.

"I dunno," Shiro tells him. "This planet's, what? Ninety percent water? You'd think the shore'd be hard to beat here."

Lance scoffs, waving a hand dismissively. "Pfft, don't make me laugh. That just means there's a lot of it, not that it's _pretty_. Back on Knossos? A lot rarer but waaaaaay harder to beat."

Shiro chuckles. "Well, I'll defer to your knowledge on that. I'm just from Earth."

"Yeah, you better!" Lance crosses his arms, lifting his nose in the air, eyes shut.

Shiro counts down from ten in his head. At five, Lance peeks an eye open and raises an eyebrow at Shiro. "You know... I've never been to Earth. My family left, like. Ages ago. Any nice seashores there?"

With a shrug, Shiro answers, "I left when I was pretty young myself. I can't really say I remember that much. Besides it's..." And these are the past Shiro's words, not his own. He's human, he knows that much. But he can't remember the first thing about Earth. "...Kind of hard to look past the Galra on Earth sometimes."

Lance winces. "Riiight, I forgot. Sorry about that." Shifting into a deceptively casual stance, he leans back against one of the tables scattered across the room. He lifts a hand in a large, expansive gesture that Shiro, frankly, cannot even begin to decipher the meaning of. "A-anyway, forget I asked, all right? I'll just show all of you Knossos someday, okay? Deal?"

But Lance's gesture has one unexpected side effect. When he lowers his hand, Shiro catches sight of dark hair and red and white armor at the other side of the room, belonging to a man with his head bent over a tablet.

Belonging to the Red Paladin.

His heart skips a beat.

"Hey, uh, buddy?" Lance asks when Shiro doesn't answer.

But Shiro barely hears him, already sidestepping to get a clearer look at where the Red Paladin is standing.

"Shiro? Shiiiiiiro?"

It's the past version of him, not the present one that disappeared on him last night, but it makes little difference. He's barely seen him at all since these memories started. And that's just...

"Shiro! Seriously!"

Shiro startles, looking down at where Lance's expression is somewhere between irritation and concern. "You okay there, man? You kinda just spaced out."

"Uh." He sneaks a peek at the Red Paladin. Still there. Good. "Yeah, I'm fine, sorry. Just kind of spaced out for a second there."

But Lance, damn him, turns out to be shrewder than he ever expected. His eyes follow Shiro's and it doesn't take him long to find just _who's_ caught his attention.

Lance raises an eyebrow at Shiro, all false innocence. And false innocence that isn't even pretending not to be false, at that. "You know," he says slowly. "I heard there was another human in this castle."

"Yeah?" Shiro hedges. "If someone told you that, they probably just meant me."

"Uh-huh. Anyway, I saw him yesterday. Not, like, up close or anything, but talking to one of Lotor's guards or whatever. He had this, like..." He raises a hand to his head, gesturing at the crown of his head. "Stupid mullet? I was sooo surprised, I thought we'd left that kinda thing back on Earth."

Shiro sighs. This would be just about the perfect time for some genius idea to get right out of this. But he's beginning to get the idea that Lance wouldn't be Lance if it were that easy to evade him when he gets like this. "And you're telling me this why?" he asks, because apparently he's always been more than a little unwilling to just give in when caught out.

And maybe he's been more than a little fascinated with the Red Paladin for longer than he's thought, he's finding.

But that's a thought to file away for later.

"Oh, no reason." Lance shrugs, settling more firmly onto the edge of the table. Shiro considers one of the seats surrounding said table and promptly dismisses it. Harder to escape. "I was just checking if you knew about him, is all. I heard some pretty interesting things about him. That I'd be willing to share iiif, you know. I happened to know anyone who likes mullets."

Oh.

Oh great.

How in the world did he manage to get himself into this mess?

"I don't have any particular opinion on mullets," Shiro says blandly, hands on his hips.

Lance narrows his eyes up at him. "You wanna hear about Mullet Boy or not, Shiro?"

Shiro sighs, so deeply he might as well just deflate. "Is there anything you'd like to share, Lance?"

Judging by the grin that splits Lance's face, that was exactly what he wanted to hear. "Oh, nothing _that_ interesting! Turns out he kinda keeps to himself, you know? All lone wolf and whatever. Nobody really knows where he came from either, or if he's fully human." He snickers. "Plaxum told me he kinda just 'came with the castle,' whatever that means."

Shiro's heart sinks.

How long _has_ the Red Paladin been alone?

"That's all?"

"Yeah, more or less. And his name, but--"

"But I already know it."

Lance laughs. "Oh, lookit you, Shiro! So proactive with the guys already!"

" _Lance_."

But Lance shakes his head, holding his hands up in front of him. "No. No, no, no. Who am I to stand in the way of true love here? Go get 'im, tiger!" He leans up and, in a conspiratorial whisper, says, "Y'know, if you just wanted to go off to talk to him this whole time 'cause you're into him, you just had to say!"

Shiro practically jolts away from him. "Lance!"

"What? I'm just saying!"

He huffs, but at Lance's expectant look, he obediently steps away and makes his way to the other side of the room. Fine, his ego may be a little bruised--both of him--but this was what he wanted to do in the first place.

It's fine. It's perfectly fine.

He gives Lance one last chiding look over his shoulder, though Lance just grins even wider in response, before he reaches the quiet little corner of the lounge the Red Paladin's sitting in.

Then he has absolutely no idea what to say. Great.

Lucky for him, the Red Paladin notices him first. His lips part in surprise, what little color there is to his cheeks draining away. "You're still here," he blurts out.

Shiro finds himself more than a little nonplussed. "Uh. Yeah, here I am. Is that... a problem?"

The Red Paladin sets his tablet down on the arm of the chair, hard, and rises to his feet in one smooth motion. "Come on," he says, grabbing Shiro's arm--the metal one, he notes, the one people usually avoid--and immediately pulling him out of the room. "We can't talk in there."

Shiro blinks in surprise, but follows him nonetheless.

That is... absolutely not the kind of greeting he was expecting. He doesn't even want to know what Lance is thinking right now.

But the Red Paladin doesn't speak the whole time he drags him through the corridors and Shiro leaves him to his silence, until soon enough, they're arriving at a large empty room.

It's one Shiro hasn't seen yet, any of the times he's been in the castle. With a wide, long window at the end of it, it feels a little like it should be some kind of observation room. He ends up making a mental note to come back here at night one day, to see what the stars look like from here.

Before reminding himself that even one more day in this castle is no longer guaranteed, depending on how things go with Lotor.

It's a shame.

The Red Paladin doesn't give him much time to dwell on it.

Arms crossed, he stands across from Shiro, tension radiating from every line of his body. You're still here." he says, no preamble. "I thought... I thought you would have..."

"I'm still here because I have to be," Shiro answers, tone baffled. "Why? Do you want me to go?"

"It's dangerous," the Red Paladin says, scratching at the back of his neck. "I told you about the... About the rebels, right? And how Prorok won't be happy about them?"

He wishes, so dearly, that his answer could be anything _but_ , "Who's Prorok? Lotor's the one in charge here, right? Is he one of his generals?"

"Lotor?" The Red Paladin shakes his head. "No. No, it's..."

The thought strikes Shiro out of the blue. He doesn't remember which time he's in exactly, he realizes. He's confusing Zaherux and Theyar.

"Hey, relax, buddy," he hears his own voice say. He truly, truly has no idea what the Shiro of this time must have thought of the Red Paladin, but he's grateful to hear his voice come out gentle and reassuring. "I'm pretty sure there's no Prorok here, it's all right."

The Red Paladin sucks in a breath. "You still have to be careful. Don't be alone," he says, more insistent this time. And there's a fire in his eyes now, burning away the confusion. "The castle's cursed."

"So I've heard. Is it like a story they tell people here or--"

"No. It really, seriously is cursed," he insists. "Everyone who lives here ends up dead. Or worse. You can't let it happen to you _again_."

Shiro stares at him in astonishment. Did what happen on Zaherux shake him up that badly? Is that was this is? In the present, he'd seemed like he'd been over it.

The Red Paladin he's met has never been quite this forceful with what he wants Shiro to do. He's always asked, always warned or advised, but never demanded.

It strikes a strange note to Shiro, like everything's shifted just slightly sideways. And he can't even begin to figure out why.

And, above it all, he wishes so very badly he could speak to this version of the Red Paladin like he can the other one. He's growing increasingly muddled, and he can't help but think this warning is part of it.

"I'll be fine," he tells him. "But I probably can't convince you to get some rest, can I? You look tired."

The Red Paladin only shakes his head, turning earnest eyes up on Shiro. "I mean it," he whispers. "I can't let that happen to you again, I..."

"Again?"

"Yes! Just like when Prorok..." He trails off, eyes impossibly wide. "Lotor. You said it's Lotor this time. You shouldn't..." He cocks his head, as if listening to something Shiro can't hear and that's. That's concerning, too.

What has all this time done to the Red Paladin?

"You shouldn't trust Lotor either," the Red Paladin finally murmurs. "It's because of him the curse exists."

Shiro's blood turns to ice in his veins, probably cold enough to rival the Red Paladin's skin.

"What are you talking about?" he asks, barely even able to move his lips. "How did Lotor start the curse?"

The Red Paladin swallows, his adam's apple bobbing. "I'm not entirely sure, I wasn't there for that."

"Look... Lotor's barely twenty-three years old. And you look about the same age to me, I don't think..."

"Not this Lotor. This is the one who... I mean..." The Red Paladin trails off again, huffing out a frustrated breath, then biting his lip. "I'm sorry, Shiro. I don't remember what she told me. But I can try. Just... Just gimme a minute. I'll _try_."

That brings up so many more questions he doesn't even know what to do with them. _She_? Who is she?

Acxa? Allura? Who?

He reaches out for the Red Paladin, for his shoulder, maybe. But...

" _Shiro_!"

That's when the sound of running feet reaches his ears. And _Lance's_ voice.

He whirls around in surprise, stopping only to notice the way the Red Paladin immediately steps back, as far out of sight of the door as he can manage.

"Shiro! Shiro, buddy!" Lance leans against the doorframe, stopping to catch his breath. "Th-that... That pilot. She came to get me and she said we have to go _now_. She said something's gone wrong with Lotor and Allura. And Coran!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


	6. Chapter 6

He pauses only long enough to glance at the Red Paladin, who shakes his head and mouths _No, don't_ at him.

But as much as he wishes he could stay, as much as he wishes he could actually talk to the man, _anything_... He knows damn good and well he doesn't really have a choice.

So he sets off and, this time, he doesn't miss the fact that the Red Paladin follows behind him and Lance.

"Your boyfriend's coming with us?" Lance stage whispers to him.

" _Lance_ ," he whispers back, hoping he looks disapproving enough to put an end to _that_.

Boyfriend. Please. It wouldn't be fair. To him or to the man he's looking for.

Lance leads them straight to the doors of the library, where Acxa stands waiting, the tension practically radiating off her. "It's about time," she says tersely.

"What happened?" Shiro asks, stopping to catch his breath. Then, when an idea strikes him, "Have you been standing here this whole time?" During the entire time Allura and Coran were meeting with Lotor?

"Most of it." She purses her lips. "Can't you feel it? That... I don't know, that heavy feeling in the air?"

"No," Lance says quickly, pressing an ear against the door. "I can't hear anything either. Should I be hearing or feeling something? What's going on?"

"I can," Shiro says, and realizes that, yes. Yes, actually he can. The oppressive feeling, heavy and sticky, in the air isn't just his imagination and it is absolutely coming from somewhere beyond that door. "You know what he's doing," he says to Acxa, and it's not a question.

Not with everything she said the night before.

"I have an idea. The last time..." She strides forward, pressing a hand to the tightly sealed door, and correct herself, "One of the last times it felt like this inside the castle was the night my mother disappeared. Whatever he's doing won't be good for either of your friends."

Lance hovers nervously between the two of them, before rapping his knuckles on the door. "I knew I never liked him," he mutters.

"He has good intentions, I'm sure," Acxa goes on, as if Lance never spoke, though her voice wavers. "But he's grown obsessed. And he's seeing your Allura as a chance to ramp things up. Probably as an accomplice." She turns hard eyes on Shiro. "I'm sure of it."

"Then, uh, what do we do?" Lance asks, rapping his knuckles against the door even louder this time.

Acxa pulls a blaster from her belt, aiming it at the door's control panel. "We go in, of course."

"Pfft," Lance scoffs. "That stuff only works in movies, what are you--"

With one sure shot from her blaster, the doors slide open, releasing the acrid smell of smoke into the room, and the sound of arguing voices.

"What the cheese?!"

Without another look back, Acxa runs in, Lance at her heels. Before Shiro can follow them though, the Red Paladin moves in, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's not too late..."

And the funny thing is that, unlike in that room before... He could see the other version of the Red Paladin saying the exact same thing, the one who already knows what happened here. Or at least remembers part of it.

But the thing is also that Shiro knows this will end badly already. He might as well see this through the whole way, if only for the reason he's doing this in the first place.

He still needs to get his memories back. And this might still help.

So, "I'm sorry," he tells him, and follows after them. And he really, truly is, especially when the Red Paladin still doggedly follows after him.

The sight that greets them is worse than he imagined.

Lotor is on his knees, a disheveled Allura standing over him, fury painted over her features, while Coran lies prone behind her. There's something in Lotor's hands, but he can't tell what.

" _This isn't the way_ ," Allura's saying, pleading. "There is so much we could do together to restore our culture. As partners! Not as _murderers_!"

Loor chuckles, barely even sparing any of the newcomers a glance. "Oh, Allura. I'd so hoped to tell you about all of this later. Once I knew you'd understand." He sighs, seeming more put-upon than anything. "But this is how it must be, I suppose. I'd been building Sincline, you know." And here, he opens his hands, and whatever's in them is surrounded by light, too bright to make out anything more than a vague form. "It's not much yet, but I modeled it after Voltron, you know. What an ancient Altean once made. This should have been one of the key pieces."

Allura laughs, the sound lacking even a drop of warmth. "And what would you do with it? Drain the quintessence of everyone in this castle?"

"Oh, not quite to that level. Perhaps only the Galra here." He tilts his head at her, his hair sliding over his shoulders. "Imagine, Allura, we could rid ourselves of all the Galra, bring back the Alteans! Every single one!"

"We can't bring back the ones who are already dead," she chokes out, something like grief on her face.

"Not _yet_! Just _watch_."

Acxa's the first to react, rushing forward. "No! Don't!"

But by then, the light in his hands, whatever it is, grows even brighter, quickly filling the room. In mere seconds, Acxa disappears into it, and he can't even see Allura and Coran anymore, much less Lotor.

Shiro grabs Lance's arm, shoving him behind his own body, and he's reaching out for the Red Paladin, but.

But the light passes right through him, as if he weren't even there.

Instead, he's left to watch as the Red Paladin gazes on in horror, as the light reaches Shiro and Lance.

And then he sees nothing but white.

-

This time, when he regains consciousness, it's to bright light fading away, leaving him in the dim Castle of Lions once again. His heart's beating a mile a minute again, his breath struggling to make its way in and out of his chest, even though he knew. He _knew_ it'd all end badly again.

But there are no gentle hands this time to ground him, no frantic voice pulling him back into the present.

It's just Shiro, with the freezing cold floor under his cheek. Alone. In the dark and silence.

He groans, his back protesting the angle he's lying at, and pulls his head and torso up from the floor. Which. Turns out to be harder to do with just one hand than he'd begun to get used to in all those memories.

Go figure.

Once he manages to sit up, his back against a wall, Shiro squints into the room around him, willing his eyes to adjust to the dark just a little faster.

They don't heed him, but when he stretches his legs out, the tips of his boots hit what feels like another wall, so he's banking on him having landed in one of the many corridors of the castle. Alone, somehow.

He clears his throat. "Are you there?" he calls out, and once more, a little louder.

No response either time, no Red Paladin coming to guide him. He's definitely alone in this hallway.

The question, then, is why. The whole time he's been in this castle, the present version of this castle, the Red Paladin's been leading him from place to place. Even in the past, he never hesitated to show up when Shiro called for him.

What could have happened this time?

Shiro rubs his hand against his chest, where his heart rate's only just beginning to slow down. Maybe it has something to do with the past version of the Red Paladin having been there for the end of that memory. Maybe that's it. It'd be a simple enough reason, right? It could mean the magic and the lions and everything just got weird about it, maybe in ways the Red Paladin didn't expect.

Nothing to worry about. It's a perfectly logical reason, and one he's sure the Red Paladin will at least try to resolve as soon as he possibly can.

It's funny, then, that he can't seem to actually make himself believe it.

He can't help but think back to the everything he's said since the first set of memories, to every little sign that the Red Paladin himself is just as confused as Shiro is at the moment.

The strange little ache in his chest at the thought of the Red Paladin alone and confused somewhere unexpected right now is... a little more difficult to swallow. For entirely different reasons.

He rests his head against the wall, as the shadows around him begin to resolve themselves into shapes his eyes can make out. A hallway. He's definitely in a hallway, though not one the Red Paladin's led him down before.

After all, he thinks he would have remembered seeing a hallway that looked as shabby as this one does.

Far from the sleek lines of the rest of the castle, this place looks like it's seconds away from crumbling around him. When he presses his shoulders more firmly against the wall behind him, the jagged edges of _something_ coming out of the wall dig into his skin, just as the toe of his boot finds what feels like a crack running through the opposite wall.

When he looks up, what he thinks might be one of the light fixtures dangles halfway off the ceiling, not too far ahead of where Shiro's sitting.

This part of the castle has seen better days.

With a grunt, Shiro pushes himself up to his feet, swaying only for a moment before he steadies himself with his hand against the wall.

All right. He can figure this out. If the Red Paladin can't find him, he can just find the man himself. Holding tight and waiting isn't, can't be, an option.

He turns in place, considering the two paths laid out in front of him. But no matter which way he turns, both ends of the corridor look the same to him, as dark as it is.

So he picks the one that looks least cluttered with the debris of crumbling walls and sets off, one foot in front of the other.

If nothing else, maybe he can at least get a better feel for the rest of the castle and whatever driving force might be behind it. Whatever driving force the Red Paladin might not even remember, he realizes.

Carefully, Shiro steps past the debris in the hallway. The state he's in, he's not sure whether he'd just phase through it if he knocked into anything that isn't a wall and, frankly, he'd rather not find out.

He considers calling out for the Red Paladin again, but if he hasn't answered yet, he doubts he's somewhere close enough to hear Shiro. So he keeps pressing onward, his hand against the wall, and dearly wishing he'd thought to ask the Red Paladin for a flashlight of his own.

Until a quick burst of movement at the end of the hall has him freezing in place.

His heart hammers at his throat, but he pushes past it, not letting that moment's hesitation slow him down. He thought he and the Red Paladin were alone in this castle, nothing but the lions and memories to keep them company, but he realizes he may have been mistaken.

Well. Whatever else may be stuck in this castle with him and the Red Paladin, he can deal with it. He has to be able to do that much.

But when he reaches the end of the hall, at the intersection between two other hallways, it's not a monster that greets him, not some vengeful spirit, or another one of the Paladins he keeps hearing about.

It's just a little black cat, quiet with gleaming yellow eyes. He takes one look at Shiro before turning tail and padding leisurely down the hallway to the right. He stops once to look back at him, as if expecting him to follow, and as much at a loss as he was minutes ago, Shiro shrugs and follows after the little thing.

He has always liked cats, after all. Might as well follow this one when he's stuck.

The cat stops at the end of that next hallway, before a door that looks like it might be bolted shut, and curls up on the ground.

Shiro glances around them, but finds nothing but the same empty hallway he just crossed. With a wry little smile, he turns to look back down at the cat, figuring he just led him somewhere quiet to nap.

He starts.

No longer curled up on the floor, the cat's curled up on a girl's lap. Hooded and armored as she is, Shiro can't get a good look at much of anything beyond her tail, her blue skin, and the four-fingered hands she strokes the cat with. But he stumbles back nonetheless, the breath catching in his throat.

"Who are you?" he asks firmly.

The girl doesn't lift her head, but the cat sits up on her lap, turning those large yellow eyes on him.

Then it's...

It's strange. She _speaks_ to him.

He lifts his hand to an ear, suddenly certain that he didn't actually _hear_ anything. But there's the impression of images in his head, slowly coalescing into... not quite words, but close enough.

 _Who are you?_ she asks him in return. She lifts her head now and... Ah. He gets it now.

She can't communicate the same way he can.

But she seems to hear him well enough, so he answers with, "I'm Shiro. And I think I've gotten a little lost in... your castle?"

 _It's not my castle._ The impression he gets is matter-of-fact, like he should have been able to guess that much himself. _Who lost you?_

He raises an eyebrow. Who lost him? "The Red Paladin."

She doesn't quite make facial expressions, but she lifts her head a little higher, and the cat mimics her. _He's still here._

 _That's_ plenty cryptic, all right. And he can't say he has an answer for it. So instead, he asks her, "If you're here, does that mean you're stuck here like me? With the curse and everything?"

 _No._ And the emotion that hits him then, one he quickly recognizes as not his own, is of vague surprise. _I'm not cursed. Neither are you._

Shiro blinks down at her. But... "What do you mean? Why else did we end up stuck here? Why do I keep coming back?" He shakes his head, raising his hand to rub at the back of his neck. He should've asked the Red Paladin about that straight out. "And the Red Paladin, too."

_The Red Paladin isn't cursed either._

Shiro breathes in deeply, then lets it out. None of this makes sense. "Then why was he just waiting for me here?"

 _Why did he spend all that time alone, waiting for me,_ he wants to demand. It just doesn't seem fair at all.

The images that flood his mind this time are almost hesitant, as if she were afraid to go any deeper than that. But then there's a surge of _some_ emotion sent through him, so fast he can't identify it.

_He made a deal. We're all looking for people, that's how we end up in this castle. And he made a deal for his search and he can't leave either until it's done._

It takes a moment--just a moment too long, in Shiro's opinion--but he realizes what she's getting at. "He's been looking for me," he breathes.

She doesn't nod, but the way the cat tilts his head at him gives off more or less the same impression.

And Shiro...

Shiro feels sick to his stomach. There's someone else he needs to find. Someone he _desperately_ needs to find, the person he's been getting these vague flashes of. And he doesn't...

There's been nothing to point at that being the Red Paladin, regardless of whatever fascination he may be developing for the man. Regardless of how much it actually, actively _hurts_ to consider the Red Paladin stuck in that situation.

He didn't want his suspicions confirmed this way.

"Who are you looking for?" he settles for asking, pretending he can't feel the way his heart is practically warring with itself.

He didn't want this.

He doesn't know who he's betraying more like this.

She must take pity on him, because she doesn't ask him about who he's looking for. _My friends. But it's been a very long time and I still can't find them._

"I see." He sighs. "Well, I hope you can find them soon, Miss...?"

The response he gets isn't quite an answer to his unspoken question. It's a little vaguer now, a little more removed from the not-words, but it's a rush of gratitude nonetheless, and one he almost wishes he could replicate in the same form.

But all he has to give her is words. So he opens his mouth to speak, to thank her for everything she's told him, and snaps it shut right back again.

" _Shiro_!"

Shiro turns in surprise, eyes widening. Of course the Red Paladin would've been looking for him after that set of memories ended, and he can't help a little stab of guilt at the thought.

Was the Red Paladin worried? Did he have any idea where Shiro ended up?

There's one last gentle brush against his mind then, as he stands up straighter and squints, trying to get a better feel for where the sudden sound of rushed footsteps is coming from. For where the Red Paladin is coming from.

 _I'm Narti. And I hope you can find Keith soon,_ is the last thing he hears in his head before he turns back around and finds the girl gone, cat and all, nothing but a blank wall and an empty patch of tiled floor left in their wake.

But he can hardly spare any thought for that, not when the last thing she told him finally sinks in.

He freezes, breath catching in his throat.

That's it.

That's it, that's it, _that's it_.

Keith.

It's like something slots into place, like the wall in his head crumbles just the slightest bit more, and all the breath rushes back into his lungs at once.

_Keith._

Shiro clenches his hand into a fist, willing it to stop shaking. He doesn't know who that name belongs to. He can't quite picture a face, or the sound of his voice. But the name strikes a chord deep inside his chest.

He can't let himself forget this name again. The very thought of it is... He can't even entertain it. Not again.

(If he closes his eyes, if he concentrates, he thinks he can almost hear his name, his own name, being called out from a distance and he knows. He just knows it's _Keith_.)

But then it's someone else calling his name.

"Shiro?!"

"I'm here," he calls out in answer, once he can make his tongue cooperate again. "I'm here."

Then it's only a matter of seconds until the Red Paladin finds the little hallway he's in and first the light from his flashlight, then the man himself enter Shiro's line of sight again.

"You're okay!" the Red Paladin blurts out, coming to a hurried stop before Shiro. "When I didn't see you after that, I thought..." He looks up at Shiro, eyes wild, and Shiro takes an involuntary step forward.

He's never seen him like this before.

Not in the present.

"Are you okay?" he asks, before the Red Paladin can find any other words.

The Red Paladin takes an audible breath, then straightens up. He seems as if he's just been running, his breath just the slightest bit labored, but his face is just as pale as always, in that unnatural way Shiro tries not to think too hard about.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry about me," he says dismissively. "What happened? The memories ended, but you weren't there anymore. You just..." He huffs out a sigh. "You were just gone. I didn't know what happened."

Probably not a great sign. "I was kind of hoping you could tell me what happened. I just woke up all the way over here and that's... pretty far from where we were, I take it?"

The Red Paladin frowns. He doesn't touch Shiro, doesn't reach out to grab his face or his arm this time, but Shiro gets the feeling he's only just barely holding himself back from it.

"This is the other side of the castle. I don't really spend a lot of time here... She likes it better here."

 _She?_ Narti?

Before he can decide whether to ask, something in the Red Paladin's expression shifts. It's not quite hopeful, but it's closer to it than Shiro is strictly comfortable with. "Anything?" he asks, hesitant. "They were shorter, but these memories were closer to now, did they bring back anything?"

And there's that problem again.

But there's no getting around the answer.

"They didn't, no. I'm sorry."

And there's no getting around the way the Red Paladin's face falls either. With shaking hands, he lifts the flashlight, but Shiro's quick to interrupt before he can point the light at him.

"But I saw someone while we were separated," he says quickly, and surprises even himself with the excitement that accompanies his words. "A girl with a cat. And I think I did remember something after talking to her. I think I remember the name of the person I'm looking for now."

The Red Paladin stares at him like he's grown a second head. "There aren't any cats here," he says, tone more baffled than he's ever heard it. "Just the lions."

Shiro lets out a weak laugh. "That's what you're focusing on? No, I think remembering that name's a little more important. Or the girl."

"Oh." His expression doesn't clear. "The only other person here besides us is the witch. It might have been her."

Whoa. Whoa, hold on. The witch? That doesn't fit in with anything that Narti told him.

"But that's good about the name," he goes on, oblivious to whatever Shiro's face is doing right now. And it's probably not just Shiro's imagination that makes him sound less than enthused about the prospect of that name. "But did it bring back anything else?"

"Well, no," he admits. Keith. Everything he's getting back is all Keith, nothing else. "But it's a start, right? And if we can find that girl again, she could be able to help us. This could be a good thing."

Or it could be. If the Red Paladin lifting the hand with the flashlight just then didn't reveal how much _more_ Shiro has begun to fade.

Maybe he wasn't so wrong to worry about phasing through anything that isn't the walls, he thinks inanely, every single other rational thought fleeing him all at once.

"We shouldn't ask the witch for help anyway," the Red Paladin mutters, his miserable expression fixed somewhere around Shiro's shoulder.

"Listen," Shiro chokes out, once a smidgen of rational thought returns to his brain. "I don't think she was a witch. She was trying to help me, I'm sure of it. If we just go and--"

"Shiro," the Red Paladin says, in a tone that's familiar in a way he can't place. "The longer we don't figure something out, the more you..." He takes in a shuddering breath. "I don't know how much time you have left, Shiro. And... And you can't trust anything she promises you anyway. Trust me."

He turns pleading eyes on Shiro. "But if you really want to, can we..." He lowers the flashlight, hooking it onto his belt. "Can we try one last thing before you go looking for her? Please? I-I've got an idea."

"Okay," Shiro says. He can't. He can't just say no. "Okay. What have you got in mind?" 

The Red Paladin gives him a grateful smile, then reaches back to his belt, to the holster at his back, and pulls out a small, wrapped up knife.

"Can you take this?" he asks, his voice cracking at the end. "It's-it's not the lions, but it's got some other memories. From before the castle. Maybe Zaherux was too long ago. And maybe Theyar wasn't long enough, but..." He shifts on his feet, holding out the knife hilt-first. "But maybe this will work better."

What?

Shiro shakes his head. "I don't understand. I though the magic was supposed to work on the lions, not just anything else."

"It's not," is the whispered answer. "This is just kind of an exception."

"You're lying to me," Shiro says softly. And he has no doubt about it, and not just because of that weak answer. With the shifty way the Red Paladin won't quite meet his eyes, with the way his hands shake around the knife, it's not hard to remember that the Red Paladin's proven himself to be an awful liar so far. He just doesn't know which part of all of _this_ is the lie.

The Red Paladin cuts his eyes away from him entirely. "Think of it as a last-ditch effort," he says, and it's not a denial. "Can you do this? Please? If it doesn't work, then... Then we'll figure it out, okay? I'll do anything I have to so I can help you."

For the first time since waking up here, Shiro realizes, he doesn't want to do as the Red Paladin asks. And he doesn't have to. He could turn around right now, call for Narti and her cat, and completely ignore that knife.

But he's also getting the impression the Red Paladin himself isn't too fond of the idea, even as he practically begs for Shiro to take it.

Just as he's realizing that maybe, just maybe, he's getting in too deep with someone he shouldn't. He doesn't want to take the knife. But he wants to do as the Red Paladin asks, to wipe that miserable expression off his face somehow.

(He'd like to reach out and trace that frown with his thumb, smooth out the wrinkle between his eyes with his fingers. But he can't. He just can't.)

More memories. If it's just more memories... He can handle that, can't he?

"If you really don't want to," the Red Paladin murmurs. "It's fine. We'll figure it out. But..."

Shiro doesn't hesitate any longer. He just nods and reaches out for the knife, and doesn't miss the conflicted expression that crosses the Red Paladin's face in the split-second before his fingers make contact with the knife, the way he seems to outright tremble.

Everything goes dark again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> liiiittle bit shorter than usual...... because i'm posting the next one within the next 24hrs hopefully. And I swear the answers start with that one lmfao
> 
> Thank you for reading! ♥
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr](https://o-riande.tumblr.com/)


	7. Chapter 7

Shiro blinks his eyes open, lifting his head from where it's pillowed on his folded arms. Did he...

He grimaces, rubbing the heel of his hand into his chin as he takes in the desk he's sitting on. Did he fall asleep here?

He can't remember what he was doing before this.

The tablet and paperwork scattered around the desk's a clue, and a pretty big one at that. But when he squints down at it, he can't recognize what any of it's about, though it's all his handwriting at the top of each sheet of paper.

_Supplies_ , _Drill Schedules_ , _Lesson Plans_.

He raises his eyebrows. Lesson plans? He's... a teacher?

Shiro lowers his arm, resting his chin on the chilled palm of his right hand.

Right. He's a teacher. Of course he is. And he's got to do something about the climate control in his office already. The cold in here is getting ridiculous, no matter how many times he tells maintenance about it.

He gives himself a little mental shake and fishes the tablet out from the mess of paperwork. Christ, he really must have conked out hard if he's this disorientated. How much sleep did he even get last night? Or not get, for that matter.

He doesn't know.

Shiro's just begun scrolling through the tablet, squinting from it to the sheets of paper, when the door to his office opens, quietly, like whoever it is isn't quite sure whether he's still asleep or not and.

Oh, great. People have started noticing he's been doing that.

He puts on what he hopes is a convincing enough smile and begins to turn his desk chair around, when a soft "Takashi," exasperated and fond, greets him.

His smile turns sheepish at the sight of the sandy-haired man, just A...

He straightens up in his chair, his sluggish mind struggling to connect the face to a name. His breath hitches. A... Something with an A...

"Takashi, the man says again, concern in his voice this time, and suddenly he's standing much closer, right in front of Shiro's desk chair. "Please don't tell me you've spent all afternoon sleeping here again. I think you're starting to forget you've got a perfectly good bed."

_Takashi_...

That's _his_ name, isn't it? It suddenly feels so foreign in his mind, rattling around like something he's just picked up. Ta. Ka. Shi.

But then this man's name is...

Shiro smiles at him, hoping he doesn't look as uncertain as he feels. He knows this man. He _does_. His name is just...

"Adam," he finally blurts out, holding back a relieved sigh. Adam. This is Adam, someone he could never forget. "It's fine," he says flippantly, letting a smile soften his tone. "I just wanted to get this all done by tomorrow."

That sounds about right. Yes. He had work to do. He was getting it done. Nothing wrong with that.

Adam only raises a disapproving eyebrow at him. "You should take it easy. There's no need for you to push yourself like this." Gently, he tugs at Shiro's hand, and Shiro lets himself be pulled up from his chair. "You agreed you'd take a break, remember? For a few days? Maybe longer, if we can, there's no use in making yourself feel even more unwell."

Shiro doesn't remember. The idea pulls at him wrong, in fact, just the slightest bit. But he doesn't protest when Adam leads him to the sofa on the other side of the office, pulling him down to sit by him.

"I think I'm going to have to postpone that a little," he says wryly. "I wouldn't feel right just taking a break now when my students have that big flight test coming up. And--"

"Takashi," Adam says on a laugh. "You know I love how dedicated you are to those students of yours. I get it, trust me." And here he presses a kiss to Shiro's cheek, warm and familiar. "But, come on. Six months, you and me, away from all of this."

_All of this_.

"Away from the Garrison?" he asks carefully, something in him already rebelling at the idea.

He agreed to this?

"Yes," Adam insists. "Somewhere you can rest. You don't need to prove anything to anyone anymore, remember? We talked about it, Takashi."

Adam's tone is gentle, conciliatory. _Loving_. There should be nothing objectionable about anything he's saying.

But his words make Shiro's teeth itch.

"What about the Galra?" he asks, the idea suddenly latching on to him fiercely. "I... I TA Commander Iverson's flight classes. He needs me. How will they all be ready for the fight if I'm not helping?"

Adam's expression settles somewhere between confused and indulgent. "Takashi," he says. "What are you talking about? Who are the Galra? And why would Iverson want anything to do with any of them, he retired _years_ ago." He takes one of Shiro's hands in his own, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against the back of his hand. "I knew you'd been overworking yourself," he goes on. "Honestly, the way you've been pushing your body is just too much. You should..."

Shiro doesn't hear anymore, his blood running cold.

The Galra. He knows the Galra are real, and enough of a threat to have the blood pumping loudly in his ears. He knows it straight down to his bones.

Just _what_ is Adam talking about? Iverson would never retire when the Galaxy Garrison was one of the last armed holdouts on the whole planet.

He wouldn't...

...Who is Iverson anyway?

No. That's not important.

He turns wide eyes on Adam. "Adam," he says, interrupting whatever he was saying. "What are you talking about? You know the Galra. The big purple aliens? Invading Earth?"

Adam only shakes his head, staring at Shiro like _he's_ the one speaking nonsense. "It's fine," he says quickly, pulling at Shiro's hand again. "Let's just take you to the infirmary. You clearly just need some rest but I'd feel better if they looked you over first."

No.

No. This isn't right.

He pulls his hand away from Adam's, heartbeat already racing in his ears.

A break? Rest? He can't afford any of that. He doesn't even _want_ any of that. What in the world would he do with his time, even if the Galra weren't a threat?

"I have to go talk to Iverson," he manages to choke out, stumbling to his feet, as Adam stares up at him, frozen.

He's halfway to the door when Adam scrambles to hurry after him. "Takashi, please. Iverson isn't _here_. Please, just go to--"

But Shiro's faster than him. He reaches the door before Adam can reach him, pulls it open, and that's when it all.

Stops.

The corridor outside the doorway is pitch black and the very air of foreboding it exudes is so tangible that Shiro stumbles back, back into the room proper. When he whirls back around, he catches a split-second glimpse of Adam and the office, everything frozen in place, Adam's hand still outstretched toward him, before it all fades away. Like a mirage.

The room slowly reforms itself into an entirely different one, the hangar in the Castle of Lions. He presses his back against the stretch of wall by the doorway, breath coming in quick, short bursts.

He's not in the Galaxy Garrison, he realizes, with a strange sort of detachment. He's not even on Earth.

_What is this_.

He gasps in a breath. The knife. That's it. He remembers the Red Paladin handing him a knife, saying something about a last-ditch attempt at regaining his memories.

_That knife_.

Sure as anything, when he looks down at his hand--one hand, just one, not like in whatever that was--he finds it clutched tightly between his fingers.

How.

"Red Paladin!" he calls out, turning his head from side to side. "Where are you?!"

It takes only moments for the Red Paladin to step into his line of sight, as if materializing from the shadows of the room. His steps are slow, guilt writ large across his features, and Shiro can barely even think straight.

_What did he do_.

"I'm sorry," the Red Paladin says before Shiro's brain can quite make any words work. "That didn't work."

"What was that supposed to be, exactly?" Shiro demands. "Those were..." With every step, he moves closer to the Red Paladin, who in the dim light of the room, only looks more and more miserable with every foot he crosses. "Those weren't my real memories, but I remembered something there! What was that? What are you playing at?"

Even now, there's something, _something_ , practically hammering at the back of his head, begging to be let in. It's Adam and it's the Garrison and it's the planet Earth and it's the person he's looking for. It's more trying to rush into his head than since even before the Red Paladin suggested looking for his memories in the lion statues.

He raises his hand to his temple, where a dull, pounding headache is beginning to make itself known.

It's recognition. But he can't find the right door to open to let it all in.

There's a change in the Red Paladin's expression then, from hesitant to determined.

He stands up straighter, squares his shoulders, and meet Shiro straight in the eye. "You weren't remembering anything. I thought this was the best way to..." Then, like none of that ever happened, he visibly wilts, his shoulders slumping. "To save you. So you wouldn't end up stuck here like me."

Shiro shakes his head wildly, disbelief coloring his every word. "I don't understand what you're talking about. You thought you had to make me see an illusion of..." He breathes in, hard. Adam. He knows who Adam is. "Of my ex? Of all the things we _didn't_ agree on before?"

The Red Paladin grimaces. "You remember him now?"

"Yes, of course. He was right there!"

A moment of silence, and the Red Paladin crosses his arms, his brow furrowing. "Then why didn't you remember any of the others..." he whispers, almost to himself. "They were your friends, too."

"I don't know. Were they not supposed to save me, too?" And he doesn't... He doesn't understand what that means. Regaining his memories so he doesn't literally fade away, all right. That he understands. But when did this turn into him getting stuck here for good? He'd assumed it'd be quite the opposite.

"No! They were just supposed to help you remember, so you'd come back for real! Because if you couldn't remember, you'd just fade away and keep coming back and dying like that!" The Red Paladin buries his face in his hands, just for a moment, before lifting his face and turning pleading eyes on Shiro. "I couldn't keep doing that to you," he says, his voice breaking.

The sound drags at him, somehow. "You didn't even do anything to me," he says, disbelieving. "You just said you were going to help me get my memories back." And Shiro isn't blind. He can tell there's some kind of affection for him on the Red Paladin's part, an affection he can't really let himself return if he wants to find the person he needs to, regardless of what pull he feels himself. But there's still been nothing, nothing at all, that has pointed at the Red Paladin wanting to harm him in any way.

"Because you kept coming back," the Red Paladin says faintly. "You kept coming back and you got caught up in the curse, too, and this was the first time you weren't! So I had to try something different."

Suddenly, he can only think of Narti and her cat, of her surprise at the notion that Shiro could possibly be cursed as well, and he shakes his head again. "I'm not cursed. You don't have anything to do with why I'm in this castle." He's looking for someone. That's it. Narti only made that all the clearer. Even if _he_ is who the Red Paladin is looking for, he'd have likely still been drawn to this castle, for his own person he needs to find.

_We're all looking for people,_ she said.

"No," the Red Paladin says, his mouth twisting in a pained frown. "It's got everything to do with me."

Shiro doesn't hesitate to step forward and place his hand on the Red Paladin's shoulder, who stiffens under his touch. "I still don't understand. What do you mean?" he asks, and it sounds almost desperate to his own ears, almost matching the Red Paladin's own tone.

The Red Paladin shakes his head, but Shiro leans in closer, whispers, "Can you please explain what you mean?" and the Red Paladin's shoulders slump even further.

He steps back, out of Shiro's grasp. "You died, Shiro. That's one of the things I remember for sure."

Shiro's not particularly surprised at that revelation. How could he be, when he essentially just saw himself die twice? But the Red Paladin _admitting_ that he doesn't quite remember everything?

That's much more noteworthy.

So, "I know," he says, not unkindly. There's something in him, another thing he can't quite reach far enough for, that's telling him his death is something he already accepted long ago. The consequences of the failed rebellion and Lotor's plot... They were inevitabilities. He thinks. "I saw."

"Before that," the Red Paladin goes on, his voice even fainter now. "You died before that and..." He huffs out a breath, and it's not quite a laugh, not quite a sob. "And you weren't going to come back. You were going to be gone forever, Shiro." He turns guilt-ridden eyes on Shiro. When he speaks, his voice steadily rises, louder and louder. "The magic made sure you came back, but it means you got caught in the curse _and it's my fault in the first place_!"

The Red Paladin's voice echoes in the room and Shiro freezes, stunned at the vehemence.

No. No, that doesn't make any sense. Narti seemed so sure...

Can he really trust her?

But while Shiro's still trying to make sense of that, the Red Paladin goes on, the dam broken. "So, we... I," he amends, voice shaking even more. "After all this time, I thought the only way to save you would be to let you go! Or you'd eventually end up stuck like me forever!"

" _What_?"

"Like this!" the Red Paladin yells, tapping a hand against his armored chest, as if that explained everything that _this_ could encompass. "Except you'd just keep dying and dying and... You were back, but it wasn't worth you getting hurt again and again. _Nothing_ is." The Red Paladin's knees buckle, and Shiro rushes steady him, to wrap his arm around his waist.

The Red Paladin breathes heavily in his ear, shaking in Shiro's arm, but he shakes his head and doesn't pull away from Shiro's grip. "And you can't..." He swallows, tries again. "And you can't do this to me again, Shiro. You _can't_."

_You can't do this to me again_.

Shiro's arm tightens around the Red Paladin's waist.

"I-if you wanted to stay in that memory... I think the curse could finally let you go and you'd just be reborn somewhere better. Where I wouldn't be making you suffer like this!" There's real anguish in the Red Paladin's voice. He's keeping his head ducked, his nose brushing against Shiro's shoulder, and those bright eyes hidden from view. "And you'd be _okay_."

_You can't do this to me again_.

It's a familiar feeling, though he doesn't know where exactly he knows it from. It's the moment just before free fall, his feet right on the edge, inching closer and closer to the abyss.

He could swear he sees stars behind his eyelids.

"I'm sorry," the man in his grip whispers, pressing close. "I didn't want any of this to happen to you. I promised I'd save you... As many..."

Shiro whispers the rest of that sentence with him, barely even realizing he's done so.

_As many times as it takes_ , a voice whispered to him once, and not just in the memory in Theyar.

That voice, warm and full of affection in a dark, cold room, promised him that. He lifted his head to meet bright eyes on an unscarred face, and got a small smile in response. _Get some rest_ , the voice said to him.

_You can't do this to me again_ , the voice said to him, later, thick with unshed tears. _Please_. Once. More than once. He doesn't know.

_I'm sorry_ , he said to him. _I'm sorry_ , Shiro said to him. _I'm here. I'm here now._

_I'm here now. Keith_.

"K-Keith," he gasps out, his grip on this man's waist tightening so much that he gasps in surprise.

"What?" the Red Paladin whispers, barely audible. He's holding himself stiffly, but his face is practically buried in Shiro's shoulder by now.

He's trembling, Shiro realizes. One of them. Both of them. He can't tell which it is.

"Keith," Shiro says again, voice steadier this time, and something clicks when the Red Paladin only hides his face further, a low groan escaping him.

"Don't..."

Shiro can barely breathe.

_Keith_ once made him that promise in that dark room. _Keith_ begged him not to go.

It's _Keith's_ voice that he's been looking for all this time, guiding him back to this castle. This castle where he knew he had to find someone, but he couldn't seem to find him anywhere, no matter which of his memories the Red Paladin led him to. No matter who he spoke to in this castle.

It's _Keith_. He's always been here. Not lost in the castle or trapped somewhere out of reach, but trying to save him all along.

"It's you," Shiro says, wonder in his voice. His voice shakes as much as the rest of him, but that's irrelevant. Unimportant.

Shiro can practically hear the Red Paladin--Keith, Keith, because that's who he is, _Keith_ \--grinding his teeth before, abruptly, he's pulling away, stumbling back and away from Shiro. "What are you talking about?" he asks, finally lifting his head again.

He can't identify what's in Keith's expression, can't make anything out past the strange mix of terror and incomprehension, and it's heartrending. It's an actual physical ache in his chest.

"It's you," Shiro says. He doesn't dare move closer, not when Keith looks like he might bolt at any second, but he reaches his hand out, as inviting as he can. "You're who I was looking for all this time. It's _you_."

The denial is quick. "No." He shakes his head, a small, minute movement. His words come out in a rush now, like he doesn't quite have the air for them. "You were never looking for anyone before. And you wouldn't be looking for me anyway. Not after what I..." He shakes his head again, stumbling back another step. "I'm just one of the Paladins now. We're just the ones who're stuck in this castle because of the curse."

No, Shiro's sure of it. "Who's _we_?" he tries.

He doesn't remember much. Hell, he doesn't remember much of anything. But those eyes... Now, he's sure he knows them better than anyone else's. And Keith's trying to convince himself as much as he's trying to convince Shiro.

He doesn't remember how they met, he barely remembers how they parted or how any promises between them came to be.

But Shiro remembers this much.

Now.

"Me and the..." Keith stops and, when he speaks again, it's halting, as if he's unsure of his own words, "And the witch. Haggar. She cursed everyone."

The name has Shiro flinching before he even realizes he's done it, even as he hasn't the slightest idea why. But the way Keith looks at him then... He can't let himself fall into whatever this is. He needs to focus. "I haven't heard of any Haggar in any of these memories. People barely even knew about a curse."

"But you didn't remember anything anyway, why would you... It was her curse and..." He drags a hand down his face. "This is all my fault, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Shiro dares to step forward, just a little closer. Haggar and the matter of the so-called curse are things they can deal with soon. Just not yet. "Did her curse make you into the Red Paladin, too?"

" _Yes_." Keith flinches. "No. No, I told you. I've always been..."

"Do you even remember what being a Paladin means?" Shiro asks him, practically begs him. He doesn't want to say anything that will hurt him, wishes he could say anything that would erase that stricken look off his face. But he needs to ask this. He needs to understand where the confusion lies in Keith before he can make sense of anything. "Do you remember why we ever called ourselves that? Because I don't. What did the lions ever have to do with anything? What did Pidge and Hunk and Lance ever have to do with any of it? Or Allura and Coran?"

"I-I... I've always..."

"Keith. Please."

And Keith's face just _crumples_. "Don't call me that."

"But it's who you are, isn't it? I... I get it now. It's you, you're Keith." And, looking into those eyes, at the scar cutting across his cheek, Shiro _knows_ it.

This is Keith.

"No."

"You waited for me this whole time."

"I waited for the Black Paladin..." But it's a weak protest.

He gets it. Neither of them can even remember what a Paladin _is_.

Shiro moves closer and, projecting his every moment, sets his hand down on the side of Keith's neck. Keith doesn't shake it off. "I don't understand, Keith," he says, for what feels like the hundredth time. "I know I know you. And I know you know _me_. But you've been here all alone for so long. What's happened to you? Please. Please, I want to know. I want to know and I promise I'm not going anywhere."

Amazingly, that's all it takes.

Keith closes his eyes, mouth twisted in a grimace. "Everything's hazy," he admits, in a voice so small it hurts to hear. "You were here. Then you weren't here. Then you showed up again, and you kept dying because I _made_ you come back."

Shiro bites his lip and finally, finally admits the thought he'd been trying to ignore. "None of those memories ever made me remember anything. It was like I was watching someone else." He leans in closer, mindful not to crowd Keith. "It's you who's making me remember."

Keith's eyes snap open and Shiro has to very, very carefully hold himself still. He doesn't know what it means, but he gets the feeling that visibly reacting to Keith's eyes right now, to the way they've gone slitted and yellow, would be a terrible idea. So he reminds himself it's Keith, it's just Keith, and holds himself very still.

"That doesn't make sense. I saw you every time, it was _you_. And what about Adam?" Keith asks suddenly, with the desperation of a drowning man being thrown a lifeline. "Didn't you remember anything with him?!"

"Some," Shiro admits. "But it was all wrong. Adam and I..." He huffs out a laugh. "We never agreed to any of that." That much he can, if not remember, at least know somehow. That much, at least.

"But didn't you want someone like him? You could have. If you'd stayed there, you could have just gone on to another life and... And you might have met him again!"

"Keith..." And Keith still eyes him warily at the name, his eyes still eerily like a cat's. "I loved him. But things ended between us a long time ago, and for a reason, I'm sure. It's not him I was looking for."

Keith presses his lips together tightly, gaze only growing all the warier.

"Please, Keith," Shiro says, letting his thumb rub small circles in the skin of Keith's neck. He's more than a little gratified when Keith leans into the touch, just the slightest bit. "You told me everything's hazy. I understand. I left you alone for so long. But I know we knew each other even before that research facility. I know it was you I was looking for."

"I was just..."

"The Red Lion's your lion, right?" Shiro asks, grasping at the first thing that comes to mind. "Could it show us your memories, too?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I told you, it's damaged."

Shiro lowers his hand, taking Keith's hand in his own. "Could you show me, please?"

"I still might not remember anything. What'd be the point?"

"You don't have to. But if you're okay with trying..."

He can practically see the moment Keith relents, the moment his eyes revert to their usual color. And he doesn't want it this way. He wants Keith to _want_ to show him, not feel like he has to. But the more Shiro asks him, the more muddled Keith seems and...

Shiro swallows. "If you really don't want to, that's fine. We can stay like this and we can figure it out together some other way. But, Keith. I know you can do this."

"Okay," Keith whispers, pressing his forehead against Shiro's. "Okay. For you. I'll do it for you."

"Keith..."

Keith shakes his head slowly, letting his eyes slide shut. Behind him, somewhere further back in this cavernous room, Shiro catches sight of a soft, red glow when he lifts his eyes, from within what he can only just barely make out as the outline of another of the lion statues. It's dim, so much dimmer than the others had been, and he can only think of how Keith said that lion is damaged.

He can only imagine what that means.

Keith's hand tightens on the back of Shiro's neck, his forehead pressing more firmly against Shiro's, and Shiro lets his own eyes slide shut, waiting for the moment the red lion pulls them under.

Only...

"Seriously?" a voice, high and girlish, interrupts them and Keith startles, jerking away from Shiro.

"Who..."

"...Haggar?" Keith asks, looking around the room with wild eyes.

But that's.

Shiro doubles over, his hand flying to his temple, as his head _pounds_.

_What now, Champion? Still can't pick yourself up from something as measly as that?_

Shiro clutches at his head tighter, breathing raggedly.

Haggar. That's not Haggar's voice.

" _Shiro_!"

Keith's at his side again in an instant, hands gentle, but firm, on his shoulders. "Shiro. Shiro, can you hear me? What's wrong?"

"That's not... That's not Haggar," he manages to gasp, but misses whatever Keith's reaction to that is when another pulse of pain lances through his head.

Haggar. Just who in the world is Haggar, if thinking of her voice has him in this state? And he's left _Keith_ alone with her?

With great difficulty, he manages to lift his head enough to meet Keith's worried eyes. But he's no sooner caught a glimpse of him, before the voice--not Haggar's voice, definitely not Haggar's voice, for the love of god, it's not Haggar's voice--speaks again.

"Seriously?" she says again. "All this time and you just, what? Welcome him back with open arms like this? He still doesn't even actually remember you!"

Keith's hands tighten on Shiro's shoulders. "It's not his fault," he says, practically a growl, to thin air. "He's trying to remember."

"What makes you think anything's gonna make him remember _now_?" the woman says again and Shiro... He can't see where her voice is coming from. Not even a shadow of movement in the dark. "Face it. He didn't remember you the other two times, I don't think he _cares_ anymore."

"That's..."

"That's not true," Shiro says firmly, pushing himself up until it's only one of Keith's arms that's helping hold him up. His head still pounds like nothing he can ever remember, he still only has half a clue what he's even supposed to be remembering, but this is another thing he's sure about. He was looking for Keith.

"Yeah, that's why he kept coming back and didn't even recognize you a single time," she says, and there's something disdainful about her voice now, something dark and resentful that Shiro can't even begin to guess at the cause of. "I think we had the right idea, _Red Paladin_. It's that ex-boyfriend of his that's helping him remember. Not you."

Keith doesn't let go of his grip on Shiro's shoulders, but he shifts on his feet, everything about his posture suddenly uncertain.

"It's been so many years," she croons. "What's he still gonna care about a brat like you? You're the one who went and bound yourself to this place like an idiot. _For a man_."

Keith's hands tremble. "You did the same thing!"

The woman laughs, an edge of hysteria to it. "I didn't do it for a man!" She snorts. "What do you know anyway? You don't even remember my name anymore. I've had front row tickets this whole time to seeing you lose your damned mind! Over _him_."

Shiro can't breathe.

He can't make sense of what she's saying.

"And you're just gonna take him back like this? Let him go!" she yells. "He's obviously let _you_ go already!"

Keith's lips are pressed together tightly, his brow furrowed in the beginnings of a scowl. "I promised him," he says, voice all tightly leased anger. "This is why I agreed to your whole thing in the first place! You were going to make sure people came back!"

"Oh, look at that. He remembers that much." She scoffs. "You know, maybe we were wrong. Maybe we can't get any of them back. So you should let him go, before he goes and dies on you again."

"It's not the same now--"

"Show yourself," Shiro interrupts, and winces at how weakly his voice comes out. But he needs to know just who they're dealing with. "Where are you?"

A shift of displaced air, one more derisive chuckle, and then a woman stands before them. Orange-skinned, with some kind of tail on her head, she regards them both with a sardonic smile. "It's me," she says, singsong. "His best and only friend for all this time. Did you miss me?" she asks Keith. "While you were trying so hard to get your Shiro back?"

"How can I miss you when you never leave?" he growls.

"Hmm. Good point."

"What do you want?" Shiro asks, when Keith looks no more inclined to speak than he is to stop glaring at the newcomer.

"I _want_ for you to stop filling his head with ideas!" she says, looking at Shiro directly for the first time now. "You've come back and back and back before and you never even recognized him! Even though he was waiting for you all this time," she mocks, lips turned down in a pout. "The curse didn't bring you back how he wanted, so this is just how things are for the both of us now."

"I _want_ to remember Keith," he protests. It's all still too confusing, between him apparently only being here to find someone and their insistence that he is cursed, after all. But he doesn't even need to think before saying this. "I don't know why I didn't before, but I want to. It sounds crazy, but they didn't even feel like they were _my_ memories. It's now that... It's now that I think I'm finally starting to remember and he wants--"

"Wrong!" she interrupts, and she's trembling, Shiro realizes, a slight, almost imperceptible tremble, from head to toe. "What do you know about what he wants anymore? It's been _centuries_!"

Shiro's breath gets caught in his throat.

Centuries.

Keith said years. Maybe decades.

But _centuries_.

He'd tried not to think too hard about Allura and Coran's conversation about how long it'd been then since Zaherux. But he can't escape the thought now.

The woman doesn't seem to notice his preoccupation, only goes on, "Centuries! The only thing that matters now is what I started in the first place, to make sure--"

"I can speak for myself!" Keith interrupts, and his grip on Shiro is like a vice grip by now, and he won't meet Shiro's eyes. "Haggar..."

"You still think I'm Haggar." She raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms.

"Whoever you are!" he yells. "I want this," he says in a softer tone, though it's not less fierce, and something in Shiro's chest clenches at it. "And I promised."

"You can't."

He bares his teeth at her. "You can't stop me."

In one smooth motion, Keith turns them around and _runs_ , his hand now in Shiro's own again. "It'll be different this time," Keith warns him in a rush. And there's something in his eyes now. There's _life_ in his eyes now, a kind of spark that hadn't been there even hours ago. "The state the lion is in, I don't know what it'll do with my memories."

"That's fine. I trust you," Shiro tells him, in as much of a rush, as he eyes where Keith's leading them: the source of the soft red glow from before.

He can't tell if the woman's following them, but he doesn't hear the sound of running feet behind them, doesn't hear any movement. Just a quick, shouted, "What are you gonna do if he still doesn't remember?!" before Keith picks up speed, dragging him along.

Until the Red Lion statue looms over them.

He begins to see just what Keith meant. There's a long, deep crack straight down the middle of the red crystal covering this lion, the light surrounding it even weaker than the rest of it.

But Keith doesn't stop to consider it. And it _is_ different this time. It's sudden and quick, the red light blazing bright and scorching for mere _seconds_ before it overcomes everything, too bright for Shiro to keep his eyes open.

But this time, he's got Keith's hand held tightly in his own as the world falls away around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE.... getting there...
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV switch? POV switch anybody??
> 
> btw, I've kept Shiro and Keith's post-space whale age difference here because, otherwise, I might have actually driven myself insane trying to fit that in, oops.

Keith's a child when Earth is invaded.

It happens one afternoon, on his way back from school with his dad. The skies turn grey and his dad bundles him up inside the house just as he hears the first rumblings above them, just as he catches sight of the first ship descending. Quick as a flash, they're in the backroom and his dad's pressing something into Keith's hands, barely a word exchanged between them at that point.

"Keep this with you all the time, all right?" his dad says, voice low and urgent. "No matter what. Promise me, Keith."

"Dad?"

"It'll keep you safe if you need it. But it was your mother's," his dad goes on, undeterred, and Keith's stomach drops. "So don't go showing it to just anyone, you hear?"

Keith swallows, but no matter how hard he tries, he can't make any words form. His mother. Even he knows there's _something_ there when it comes to his mom. Something he's not supposed to talk about with anyone but his dad.

He just doesn't know what that something is.

The longer Keith is silent, the more his dad's face softens, until finally, he's saying in a gentler tone, "Your mother will be back someday. She'll finish explaining then. But for now, I need you to do this, all right? I just wanna make sure everything'll all be right, squirt."

Keith bites his lip, but nods nonetheless.

_Your mother will be back someday._ That's one he hasn't heard before. He thinks he might even mean it.

So he does as his dad asks.

The purple aliens--the ones he learns are named the Galra--take over and Keith doesn't get to go back to school. Even once his dad finally lets them leave the house again, after it stops smelling like smoke all the time. His dad doesn't walk to school with Keith again, or even go anywhere near that side of town anymore.

Through it all, he keeps his mom's knife with him at all times, all wrapped up like his dad gave it to him and out of sight of anyone but the two of them.

The problem is...

The problem is that he doesn't get to see his mom come back, much less explain anything about the knife.

Because one day, two years after the Galra arrived, his dad doesn't come back home. 

Keith sits tight that night. He _knows_ his dad is helping people in town, he _knows_ sometimes it takes a long time. But the longer he waits, the sicker he feels, until morning comes and he hasn't slept a wink.

But that's when the couple that live at the edge of town come to see him.

It was an accident, they tell him. His dad died a hero, they tell him, taking down one of the Galra. He should be proud of how his dad defended people from the Galra, how he never stopped from the moment they landed on Earth, they tell him.

He should be proud. But he didn't want a hero. He wanted his dad.

The more pressing problem, however, is he can't stay in his own house anymore, not when, less than a week later, the Galra start looking for whatever's left of the man who took out one of their own. He's not sure what they mean to do by burning down the house, especially when they don't even make any kind of effort or show any sort of interest in finding his father's family, but Keith watches the house burn with his heart in his throat.

It's like losing him all over again.

The people his dad saved try to help. Even at twelve years old, Keith can tell that much. But there's just not much they can _do_ , not with the Galra breathing down their necks. So he can't even be surprised when he ends up bouncing from house to house, when he ends up with some of the people who weren't involved the day his dad died, when the gratitude begins to fade and it's resentment he sees brewing in their eyes.

One more mouth to feed when resources are already scarce, when the Galra are already mining the planet for what he eventually learns is called quintessence. When it's _killing_ the environment around them. Keith becomes just one more burden and he's.

He didn't want this.

He just wanted to wait this whole thing out with his dad, however long it took.

But even that choice has been taken away from him.

Three years pass that way, as the Galra take over more and more of the planet, laying waste to more and more countries and settlements. And there's nothing, absolutely _nothing_ , Keith can do about it.

_Nothing_.

Even having the Galaxy Garrison nearby, one of the only holdouts left in the area, doesn't afford them much. Not with how notoriously difficult it is to get in or out.

So Keith's life falls into a routine. Keep his head down, avoid the Galra, don't be a burden, don't complain too much when one family gets fed up of him and he has to go to another. Don't be a burden, of course they'll leave eventually anyway. They all eventually realize gratitude to his dad isn't enough.

And through it all, he keeps his mother's knife safely hidden, where none of the people who take him in can see.

And maybe if, sometimes, he dreams of his mother swooping in with an explanation and a way out of this, some way to get _away_ from the Galra, some secret that'll have them all running from Earth, he... doesn't tell any of them about it either.

Because it doesn't matter anyway. She never comes. The years pass and it's still just him and whatever family's willing to take him in for however long it is that time. And the Galra. And the Garrison, always just out of reach.

Until it's not.

Until he wanders too far away one day from his home of the month-- _he's a discipline case, he's always testing his limits, how are we supposed to keep him for another month without him getting himself killed, or worse, one of us killed?_ \--a little too close to the Garrison, where it's locked up tight, and just a little too close to the nearest Galra base.

More like _way_ too close.

But in the end, it's the best thing that ever happens to him.

Keith doesn't count on the Galra patrol flying past that patch of desert just as he's on it, spilling out of the gates to the base all at once.

His breath gets caught in his throat.

But he doesn't let himself freeze, taking off at a run the very instant he spots them. There's not a lot to choose from here when it comes to places to hide, but he knows he can't handle a Galra patrol, and the thought of what they'd do if they _caught_ him is just too much to think about. Not now, not when he has no way to fight back.

He hears the voices start up right then, speaking a language he can't understand, but he can't let them distract him. He _can't_ think about how them spotting him in the first place is already just about as bad as it can get.

As focused as he is on _getting away_ , it takes more than a few moments before he realizes there's another sound joining the shouting and the sounds of the Galra speeders.

When he dares look over his shoulder, it takes everything he's got not to stumble and fall onto the sand.

A figure not too far away--human, human, he hopes like nothing else that they're human, but the sun's in his eyes and he can't _tell_ \--holds up what looks like a pilfered Galra blaster and _shoots_. And it gives him just the distraction he needed when it's enough to break the Galra's careful formation, knocking one of them off their speeder in their surprise.

Keith seizes on the chance that gives him, barely even hearing as the figure keeps shooting, or the sound of running footsteps as the suicidal idiot goes and approaches them.

In the middle of the commotion, it's a simple enough matter to turn right back around and hop on the abandoned speeder. His hands tremble on the controls, he can barely even tell what starts it, but he slams his palm down on the middle of the console and that must mean _something_ , because next thing he knows he's flying the damned thing.

He can't even call the way the thing nearly zooms out from under him a false start. He just holds on and aims toward the figure with the blaster, and he can only hope he's not making some kind of mistake.

It's that focus he'll be tempted to blame later, when another one of the speeders turns from the newcomer and _rams_ into Keith's speeder, knocking the breath out of his lungs as he tumbles back onto the sand.

Damnit, damnit, _damnit_.

Too fast. He could barely even manage to keep a grip on the speeder, mysterious helper or no.

He lifts himself up to his elbows and _pain_ explodes up his leg. It's enough to leave him gasping, to have him falling face first down on the sand again, and it takes him too long, too damn long, to realize he's just been shot by another one of those stupid blasters.

The sound of another blaster firing has him cringing, bracing himself against the pain that's sure to come, but when he looks up, he realizes it wasn't one of the Galra who fired this time.

A boy maybe a few years older than Keith stands before him, urgency plain on his face and wearing what looks like a Garrison uniform that's seen better days, and he's.

He's.

Keith's fifteen, almost sixteen, and he meets the most beautiful boy in the world, he thinks inanely.

Crap. Maybe he hit his head and didn't realize it. He didn't even realize how far the Galra had spread out.

"Come on!" the guy yells at Keith, holding out a hand to where he's sprawled out, bleeding sluggishly onto the sand.

"Are you serious?!" Keith shoots back, shaking his head. "What are you even doing here?! Get out of here!!"

"It doesn't matter," the guy says, shaking his hand in front of Keith's face. "Come on, I'm _not_ leaving you here!"

Keith stares up at him in disbelief, unable to so much as move. This is all too fast for him to keep up with. " _Why_?"

"Because I know you're not going to die here," he tells Keith firmly.

And Keith wants to bat that hand away. He wants to scream, he wants to yell, he wants to tell the guy that it's _his funeral_ if he stays. With Keith's injured leg, there's no way they're outrunning those Galra. And no way they're hiding from them for long in the desert.

Why the hell should some random stranger from the Garrison go and die because some stupid kid from the desert couldn't leave well enough alone?

And it's stupid. It's so stupid. This guy really doesn't look that much older than him, can't possibly be any older than twenty. He should be looking to save his own skin, not saving Keith's sorry hide.

But his face, when Keith looks up to meet his eyes, is resolute, thick brows drawn down in determination.

So Keith reaches out and takes his hand.

With a grunt, the guy pulls him up and drapes his arm over Keith's shoulder. "Hold on to me," he warns. "We're going to have to run."

He only waits just long enough for Keith to nod his understanding, doesn't even seem to hear his "Where _to_?" before he's setting off at a run, dragging Keith along with him.

It hurts. His leg hurts like hell, more than it did even when the blaster hit him. But he grits his teeth, tightens his arm around his rescuer's waist, and follows along as best as he can. Because, fine. Fine. If this guy insists on getting himself killed along with Keith, _fine_.

It doesn't take long before he can hear the Galra giving pursuit and Keith's just beginning to resign himself to an even stupider death than he imagined, when they crest a hill and he finally, finally understands what this guy's plan of escape was.

Sitting there, a little rusty-looking, but clearly functional, is a _hoverbike_.

Keith's eyes practically bug out of his head.

"You couldn't bring it in closer?!" he blurts out, all rational thought fleeing him.

His rescuer actually _laughs_ , hauling Keith the last few yards till the bike. "Safer this way! I wasn't sure what I was gonna find when I heard all the noise!"

"Just _what_ were you doing all the way out here?! Don't you guys stay in there all the time and ignore the rest of us!"

"Not by choice!" And that's not a cryptic answer at all. "It's a long story anyway, I'll tell you soon!" is all the guy says before he pulls Keith behind him onto the hoverbike, not letting go of his arms until Keith's got them wrapped firmly around his waist. "Hold on tight!" he tells Keith over his shoulder, suddenly serious. "It's kind of a ways from here to the Garrison and we're going to have to be real quick about it if we don't _them_ \--" He jerks his head backward, toward where Keith can still hear the sounds of pursuit. "--Catching up to us."

"Right," Keith says faintly. Then, as the hoverbike begins to rev up. "Wait a minute. You're taking me to the Garrison?! Seriously?!"

"Seriously!"

And Keith must have misheard that, he absolutely must have. But the sound of the hoverbike drowns out the sound of their voices soon enough and Keith's not sure he could make words right now anyway.

He's not sure this isn't some concussion-induced hallucination, after all. Can those even happen? He can't even think enough to tell right now.

So he just tightens his arms around his waist, buries his face in those broad shoulders, and does his level best to ignore the pain in his leg. What's it matter anyway, when the Galra will no doubt catch up to them soon and kill them both?

But this guy, this stupid, stupid guy, takes them down twists and turns Keith would have never even thought to take, kicking up enough sand behind them to disorient their pursuit. If the frankly _ridiculous_ turns he takes weren't enough.

"Hold on!" he tells Keith again, voice more urgent this time, and Keith wraps his arms more firmly around his waist before he can even think to question why.

He doesn't need to.

Next thing he knows, the guy's _pitching them off a cliff_ and even as Keith's heart rises in his throat, even as he squeezes so hard his arms ache, the throbbing in his leg reaching a crescendo with how much he squeezes his legs around the bike, too, all he can think is.

_Yes_.

He's barely aware of the rest of the trip to the Garrison.

The wind's in his eyes, in his ears, the bike's kicking up sand all around them, and through it all, his heart's firmly in his throat, in awe at this _insane_ man who's just saved his ass. _Him_. There's nothing else he can focus on.

They lose the Galra not long after that, but definitely long before the sprawling walls of the Galaxy Garrison rise up to meet them and the hoverbike's zooming through a barely visible entrance at the corner of the gates that slides shut right after them.

And it's like a whole different world past the gates. Wide-eyed, Keith tries to take in as much as he can, as quick as he can--before this guy realizes he wasted his time saving Keith--but they end up stopping at a shaded, out-of-the way little garage sooner than he can even process half of it, let alone the people milling about.

Then he's being helped off the bike and there's a warm arm around his shoulders again, a hand at his hip, helping him keep his weight off his injured leg. By the time he finally manages to tune back in, the guy's speaking to him, "Come on," he says. "Let's get that looked at, I can't carry you everywhere."

Keith scoffs and his mouth runs off ahead of his brain. "Please. As if you could!"

He realizes, belatedly, he probably shouldn't be saying that to the guy who rescued him. But he just laughs, low and amused, and hauls Keith forward along with him. "I'm Shiro, by the way," he tells Keith, grinning brightly enough that Keith wonders if maybe he can still find some sunglasses somewhere.

"Keith," he says in answer, looking away from that stupid smile.

And that's how it all begins for him.

-

Over the next few days, he begins to get an idea on just why the Garrison's isolated itself so much. Officially, the medic who treats his leg tells him that it's all a matter of safety, that the Galra cornered them not long after their arrival on Earth and it hasn't been safe to leave for anything but what's essential. _Strictly essential_ , the medic tells him, tightening the bandage around his leg almost uncomfortably, and aiming what Keith could swear is a disapproving look at Shiro.

Keith cuts his eyes to Shiro where he's leaning against the wall on the other side of the room, eyeing him suspiciously. Shiro just gives him a level look in return, like he's got no idea why Keith would even look at him that way.

Strictly essential, huh? Nothing about whatever Shiro was doing out there, especially hauling back someone injured, seemed strictly essential to Keith.

But Shiro just gives him a closed mouth smile when he asks afterwards and leads him to a dusty little room with a cot and a table, though Keith's sure it must have been a storage room at some point.

"Not a lot of room for everyone anymore," Shiro tells him, half apology, half explanation, as he pulls out some equally-dusty looking linens from behind the cot. "Trust me, the old dorms are full up. We're kind of just making room for people wherever we can now."

Keith raises his eyebrows. "Do you get new people here a lot?"

"Sometimes." Shiro shifts on his feet. "They don't exactly encourage it." He seems to shake himself and aims a strained smile at Keith. "But that shouldn't stop us from trying, huh? If you tell me where they are, next time I go out I could try to find your family. In fact, I could probably get away with doing that tomorrow..."

"No," Keith blurts out. "What? No! Don't do that."

Shiro frowns, looking so genuinely put out for a moment that Keith kind of wants to take it back. "Seriously, Keith, it's not a problem. The higher ups here don't really _like_ it when we bring in more people, but I'm not in the habit of leaving people at the mercy of the Galra if I can help it."

"Shiro. Stop, stop." Keith holds out a hand, scowling up at Shiro. "It's just me, there's no one waiting for me out there. The people I was staying with were getting sick of me already."

"Keith..."

"Don't look at me like that, it's fine." It is. He doesn't need Shiro's sad face. "I'm fine. It's been just me for a long time now."

Luckily for him, Shiro's expression smooths out into easy acceptance. Which is definitely a point in the guy's favor.

But not one he's willing to test the limits of just yet, so he goes on, "What do you mean the higher ups don't like it when you bring in more people? I thought that medic said it was just too dangerous."

"It's dangerous," Shiro agrees. "But it's more dangerous to be out there." It's not really an answer, but it's enough to set the gears in Keith's mind whirling, filling his head with questions.

But Shiro shakes his head before he can ask any of them, strained smile back on his face. "Anyway, don't worry about it. Get settled in for now, all right? We'll figure it out."

"Right," Keith says, wary.

He still doesn't get it. He really, truly doesn't.

Why in the world is Shiro doing all of this for him? Especially when he's beginning to get the idea that, by bringing Keith here, he's probably pissed off more than a few people.

But Shiro just walks away then, with a promise to be back in a few hours, leaving Keith alone in the room.

And the thing is he does come back. He comes back with a change of clothes and a sheepish smile, saying something about having convinced some higher up or something to let Keith stay, and drags him off for dinner.

And he just doesn't get it.

_Why_?

-

Keith gets himself a Garrison cadet uniform and an official place in the complex, as long as he can pull his weight and help out however he can. And that's nothing Keith isn't used to already. But he doesn't miss the looks he gets from people every once in a while.

Or the whispers. He's not the first person someone's brought in without any warning, he finds, and the people who've been in the Garrison since even before the invasion seem to be... taking it harder and harder each time. More disapproving. And that's when he begins to get the feeling maybe the _Galra_ aren't the only reason the Galaxy Garrison's gates are shut tight.

Maybe, just maybe, the whispers and the looks start to wear thin. He's not the only one getting them, he knows it. But maybe, just maybe, Keith's tired of only ever being anywhere out of obligation, or worse, because someone _took pity_ on him. So what if he gets himself into more than one altercation because of it? He knows how to look after himself, it doesn't matter.

Until it does.

Until he's breaking some _stupid_ kid's nose right in the courtyard and someone's bodily pulling him away--Higgins, that's the name of the guy pulling him away, some Lieutenant Higgins or whatever--and next thing he knows he's in Montgomery's office, everyone else speaking over his head.

_He's a discipline case, he's always testing his limits, how are we supposed to keep him like this when he's a danger to himself and others, what was Shirogane thinking?_

Nothing he hasn't heard before.

But then Shiro himself is there, vouching for him, arguing for Keith to get to stay, and he's.

Not entirely sure he's not imagining it.

Maybe Griffin got in a good hit before Keith broke his nose and he just doesn't remember it.

Somehow, someway, Keith leaves Montgomery's office with no one about to kick him right back out into the desert and with a promise to learn _something_ more advanced he can use to make himself useful to the Garrison.

"Why did you do that?" he asks Shiro, sheer disbelief coloring his tone, as soon as they're out of earshot of anyone else. "What's it even matter if I get to stay here?"

Shiro doesn't raise his voice to match Keith's. "What's it even matter?" he asks, like he genuinely can't understand why Keith is even asking. "I couldn't just let them kick you back out. You deserved another chance to stay here."

"Like all the people out there deserve a chance to come in here?" Keith hisses. And he doesn't know where it's coming from. Shiro saved his skin _again_ , he should leave well enough alone and just go and sign up to be an engineer or whatever. But there's a smaller part of him, the part that does know exactly where this is all coming from, egging him on, telling him to throw absolutely everything he can at Shiro. _Anything_ so he'll realize he's wasting his time sooner, rather than later. "Seriously, what are you playing at? Trying to be my _friend_?"

"Yeah. You kind of look like you could use a friend."

Keith huffs. "You're wasting your time. You should've just let them do what they wanted."

"Keith," Shiro says, so earnestly that he draws up short, staring up at Shiro warily.

Shiro stops right along with him and, with careful movements, like he's approaching a spooked animal, lays a hand on Keith's shoulder.

Keith lets him.

"Keith." And his voice is still just so, _so_ earnest that Keith almost cringes away. "I know what it's like when it feels like no one believes in you. So I'm just going to tell you. You deserve another chance. And you deserve someone in your corner. And I think anyone would be honored to be your friend."

He looks away. Is this guy for real? Is this guy honestly really for real?

"Says you. Just give up."

"Keith," Shiro repeats, actually sounding halfway exasperated now, and that's more like it. "I'm not going to just give up on you. I promise you that."

Keith blinks.

The tone's right, but the words aren't.

"You're actually serious." He lets out a weak laugh. "You're nuts."

And Shiro smiles. "Not the first time I've heard that." He jerks his head toward the end of the corridor. "Come on, you're probably sick of being in this part of the Garrison by now."

They fall silent, and that's the end of that. Even though Keith's head is still reeling.

They get as far as out of the officers' section of the Garrison--real cushy all of them, with rooms that aren't either little better than closets or where they aren't all crammed in together--before Keith manages to speak again.

"Shiro," he asks, not looking up at him. "Tell me the truth. Are you guys all locked up in here because the Galra won't let you out or because the higher ups don't want to let anyone else in? They only looking out for themselves by now or something?"

Shiro thins his lips. He doesn't confirm the accusation, but he doesn't deny it. And that's answer enough for Keith.

Keith nods. "So how pissed are they that you've brought people back?"

"Pretty pissed," Shiro says wryly. "But I'm not the only one doing it anyway." He huffs out a laugh. "You're the first person I've managed to bring back, anyway. I wasn't even really planning on doing anything like that yet."

"Should I feel special?" Keith deadpans.

Shiro laughs and throws an arm over Keith's shoulders. "You should, but not because I brought you here. You held your own against those guys pretty well. It was impressive."

Keith scoffs, valiantly ignoring the heat that floods his cheeks. Whatever. He didn't even know what the hell he was doing at the time. "If nearly getting shot and killed because I was stupid enough to walk near a Galra base is holding my own."

"Keith, come. I just... I thought someone like you deserved another chance. Something better than dying alone because of the Galra."

Keith nods, not trusting himself to speak.

That's. That's terrible. Cheesy. Corny.

But no one's ever said anything like that to him before.

He doesn't know what to do with it.

-

But things change for Keith after that nonetheless. Turns out that "making himself useful to the Garrison" means the Garrison's willing to use anyone who can help in the fight against the Galra--provided they're even allowed into the Garrison. And, at sixteen, it's only a matter of time until they've got him trying out the flight simulators.

And he realizes he can _fly_. The thing with the Galra speeder wasn't just a fluke. He can _fly_ and he's damn good at it. Good enough to be fighter class, one of the instructors tells him, eyebrows up to her hairline.

He sees Shiro less and less as he's learning, but while he gets the impression the officers generally _love_ the guy, he doesn't miss the disapproving looks he spots on their faces sometimes, whenever anyone makes reference to the fact that maybe, just maybe, Shiro's gone out and left the Garrison gates again.

And maybe Keith even gets to hear it firsthand from the guy every once in a while. Because maybe, as time goes on, Keith doesn't actually _mind_ thinking of Shiro as his friend.

But Shiro's someone else he hears whispers about.

Takashi Shirogane, ace pilot of the Galaxy Garrison. Golden boy. Flight partner, and _boyfriend_ of some Adam something or other. Would absolutely be at the very front of the offensive maneuvers they're planning against the Galra.

If not for his illness.

Now that. _That_ gives Keith pause.

He's just getting off another session with the most intact flight simulator they've still got when he hears another couple of cadets whispering to each other.

"I mean, he's got, what? A few more years before he can't even fly anymore? If they want him in the attack, they're gonna have to hurry."

The other cadet snorts. " _If_ he's even in the attack. I hear the officers don't want him to be part of it. And even Adam's trying to convince him not to. Ryan heard 'em arguing the other day. _In public_."

Keith misses a step, walking right into Rizavi's back, who lets out a squawk and turns to stare at him incredulously.

But Keith isn't looking at her. He's looking at the two other cadets who having heard Rizavi, freeze, staring at _Keith_ now. And it takes him only a moment to recognize them.

And to realize they know he's friends with Shiro.

He doesn't stick around to hear the cadets' stammered apologies, or to listen to whatever Rizavi's trying to tell him. Keith just bolts, barely even looking at where he's going, at which instructor's calling him back. 

Shiro. He just needs to find Shiro, because _what the hell_.

It's dusk by the time he finds him, out in the courtyard--where they're technically not allowed to be--with no one else around. Which is real convenient for Keith, but probably not for Shiro.

And when Keith confronts him about it? Pushes just the slightest bit at the initial attempt to brush him off?

Shiro doesn't deny that either. He confirms it.

Every single one of Keith's expectations flies out the window. But he pushes them back, squares his shoulders and stands up straighter in front of the bench where Shiro's sitting, a battered tablet held loosely in his hands.

More important things to focus on. He's got more important things to focus on.

"So what are you going to do, then?" Keith asks, voice as steady as he can make it. "Who do you still have to convince?"

The tablet slips through Shiro's fingers and onto his lap, his eyes widening in surprise. "Everyone," he says carefully. "Not even Adam thinks I should do it."

Keith grimaces. "When you said you knew what it was like to have no one believe in you. This is what you meant."

Shiro doesn't answer. And that's answer enough. Again.

It makes Keith's heart do a funny little flip in his chest, in a way he really, really doesn't want to think too hard about. So he grunts and drops down on the bench next to him. "Shove over, old-timer," he says, settling onto his seat. "Who's everyone you have to convince?"

"Old-timer," is what Shiro says instead. He wrinkles his nose, but obediently scoots over to leave room for Keith on the bench. "Careful. In a few years you'll be as old as me."

"Yeah, I know, it's terrible," Keith deadpans. "Twenty whole years old, I'll be ancient. Answer the question?"

Shiro sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't know, Keith. All of them. Sanda thinks I'd be a liability If I went up against the Galra."

"She's nuts," Keith says vehemently. "If how you fly a ship's anything like how you flew that hoverbike, the Galra won't know what hit 'em. You'd be an _asset_."

Shiro lets out a weak chuckle. "I hear you're not half-bad at it yourself. Maybe you should take my place."

Keith rolls his eyes. "That's not funny."

But Shiro only shakes his head, a strange little smile on his face. "You want me to fight the Galra."

"Isn't that what you want to do?"

Shiro hums in answer, but otherwise doesn't say anything else, his eyes fixed up above them, on the stars.

"Besides," Keith grumbles. "I figured you..." He bites the inside of his cheek, if only to keep himself from grimacing. "Could probably use someone in your corner."

And Shiro laughs, loud and bright, and slaps a hand on Keith's shoulder. "You know what? Thanks, Keith. I really appreciate it."

Keith just shrugs, muttering under his breath. "I guess."

They fall into silence then and, honestly? Keith doesn't have the slightest idea what he's proposing. Convincing the whole Garrison upper brass to let Shiro in on the attack when they think he can't do it? He can't even begin to guess at how that would work.

But he'll be damned if he doesn't at least try.

"When I was a kid," Shiro says without preamble, then clarifies, "Before the Galra showed up. I always wanted to go to space. Kind of figured I'd be an astronaut or something. Go to uncharted space with the Galaxy Garrison. Like the Kerberos Mission."

"The Kerberos Mission," Keith says skeptically. "The one where the whole crew went missing? That Kerberos Mission?"

"Well, maybe I could do without the whole going missing thing."

Keith snorts. "That's better." He taps his fingers against the side of the bench. "Then I guess space came to you, huh?"

He fears, for a split-second, that he might have overstepped his bounds again, said something insensitive that'll have Shiro looking at him in hurt and disgust.

But Shiro grins. "Yep. Funny how it works." He leans forward, hands set firmly against the concrete bench. "So I figured. If I can't go to space, I can at least do this, right?"

"Right. We've just gotta prove to them you can do it. Show 'em they can't do it without you. No big deal, right?"

When Shiro smiles now, it's confident, self-assured, and Keith feels like maybe he actually did something _right_.

"Yeah. No big deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda like canon... kinda not like canon... you know how it goes.

After that, Keith's got two priorities: helping Shiro secure his place in the offense the Garrison is planning. And securing his _own_ place in it.

Preferably with Shiro.

Because it's not that Keith doesn't mind thinking of Shiro as his friend anymore now. It's that he's _glad_ to call him that, and he can think of nothing else he'd rather do than be right alongside him when they take the fight to the Galra.

They talk, whenever they have the time, and it's... Good. Nice. Keith finds himself telling Shiro about his dad, and finds that Shiro trusts him enough to talk about his own family, lost not long after the Galra invaded.

He holds every little conversation close to his chest, further proof that, yes. Yes, Keith has a _friend_ now.

But it's still not easy.

Adam eventually breaks up with Shiro over his decision, and that's a tough few weeks for Shiro. Sanda isn't the slightest bit happy when she catches wind of his decision either and, he suspects, neither are most of the rest of the brass.

But within the next two years, Shiro pushes himself so hard, so fast, that even Sanda relents and lets him in on the team. And Keith... He's not quite there. But he rises through his classes so quickly that he can practically _taste_ his endgame.

Everything goes as well as it possibly can.

Then it doesn't.

Then it turns out they're too damn slow and the Galra are practically knocking on the Garrison's gates. Continuously. Day after day.

They send out their best pilots to counterattack, to push back the Galra for another week, another day, another hour.

And Keith still isn't _good enough_.

 _Patience_ , Shiro tells him. _Patience yields focus_. But it's getting harder and harder to remember that the longer he spends grounded.

Because he's left grounded and, three weeks into the whole mess, It happens.

"Shiro!" he yells, running as fast as his feet will take him to where Shiro's pulling on his helmet by his fighter.

He looks up, eyes wide, as Keith practically skids to a stop in front of him. "Another one?" he gasps out, leaning a hand against Shiro's arm while he catches his breath.

"Another one," Shiro confirms, voice grim. "Careful, all right? These fighters look extra persistent."

"Me?! Careful?! You be careful!" Keith shoots back. He bumps his shoulder against Shiro's and tries not to look too closely at the bags under Shiro's eyes, or at the way that, even at only twenty-two, the first hints of grey are beginning to poke through Shiro's bangs. Not important. He's got this. "You have to tell me all about these when you come back! Maybe if I know more, I can finally convince Higgins I'm ready to go out there."

Shiro snorts. "I guess we'll see," he says, tone light. "But, all right, all right, I'll tell you all about it."

"Great," Keith says, stepping backward now, giving Shiro room to finish suiting up. "I'll be waiting, okay?"

Shiro nods, aiming one more grin at him.

And that's the last he sees of him.

-

When the fighter pilots come back, Shiro isn't among them.

Keith's breath catches in his throat.

He takes another look, and another, but Shiro's fighter is nowhere to be seen among the ones that land back in the Garrison, not even when they shut the gates again.

Keith can't breathe.

Frantic, he searches for the first familiar face he can find: Adam, leaning against his own jet, his face in his hands.

Keith doesn't hesitate.

" _Adam_!" he calls out before he's even properly reached him.

Adam lowers his hands, spots Keith, and something in his face immediately shutters. "Keith," he says, tone dull.

"Where's Shiro?" Keith asks, words leaving him all in a rush. "Why'd you leave him behind? Did he get hurt? Is he on his way? What happened, why's--"

" _Keith_ ," Adam interrupts him. "Keith. He's..." He takes in a shaky breath, digging the fingers of one hand into his closed eyelids. "Keith, he's gone. They shot him down, he's gone."

No.

"What? What are you talking about? Where is he?" Keith turns his head from side to side, as if maybe Shiro's just hitched a ride on one of the other fighter jets and is about to walk right out of one of them.

"He's _gone_ , Keith," Adam tells him, a distinct edge of impatience to his voice.

No.

"No." Keith shakes his head, and immediately stops when the world seems to sway around him. No. No, Adam's wrong. He has to be. "No way. He... He's the best one out of all of you. Stop kidding around, Adam, where is he?"

The last threads of Adam's patience snap.

He slams a hand against the surface of his jet and rounds on Keith, eyes _furious_.

"He. Is. Gone. Keith. He made a mistake and I saw him go down myself," he snaps. "None of us could get to him before the Galra swarmed! He's _gone_!"

"No! No, he'd never just _make a mistake_!"

"Are you really sure about that? Because I'm thinking maybe he shouldn't have been out there in the first place! Maybe he wasn't in any state to be pulling maneuvers like that!"

"I don't believe you! He was fine, he could do it!"

"Face it, Keith. He got shot down on a maneuver he could have done _two years ago_. Now? He couldn't have. And maybe he'd have been fine if he hadn't--"

It's Griffin, of all people, who materializes out of nowhere and interrupts them, pulling Keith away from Adam, with a muttered "Get a hold of yourself, man."

But all Keith can see is the way Adam bows his head against the jet, the way he pounds a fist against the surface of it. And all he can think of is Shiro, Shiro, _Shiro_.

No.

No.

Adam's wrong. He has to be. There's no way Shiro's gone. There's no way he just made a mistake. Not as hard as he worked, no.

No, no, no.

Later, he locks himself in his room, drops down onto the floor, and he doesn't cry.

Because Shiro's fine. Fine. He has to be fine.

-

The news spreads quickly.

Keith doesn't pay it any mind, purposely goes out of his way to avoid even the merest mention of it. But his temper frays with every hint of it he catches, with every demand for more information that goes unanswered. It goes on and on and on, until his questions start pissing off the wrong people.

And maybe there's another fight, maybe Keith goes and breaks someone _else's_ nose. And maybe a little more than that.

But Shiro isn't around to vouch for him this time. They can't kick him out into the desert, not with the Galra right there, but they sure can make sure he's locked in deep, away from any ship or plane.

Luckily for Keith, he knows exactly where Shiro keeps his hoverbike.

Within the day, he's out, back into the desert, a speck on the sand so small that the Galra ships don't even spot him. He drives with no clear destination in mind, so he's halfway surprised when dawn breaks and he finds himself on the cliff overlooking where his house used to be. Where his dad's little shack still is.

And he doesn't have a plan, he doesn't have any goal in mind beyond _don't get locked up in the Garrison_ and _prove Shiro's not dead_ , but he settles right into the shack with what meager belongings he has, rifling through what's left in there to make a halfway habitable space.

He's not sure where the next few weeks go. Months. A year. He doesn't know. He can't focus. It's like he's drowning. Out in the desert and he's drowning, choking on something he can't even see.

But at some point, through it all, it begins to recede, leaving him with a vague pull in his chest instead, a strange…

It sounds so ridiculous even in his own head. But there's a _feeling_ in his chest, one he just instinctively knows he has to follow, when combing the desert for any sign of a downed fighter jet gives him nothing.

So he follows it. Because what the hell else does he have left to lose?

As the months pass, he scours the caverns around his little patch of desert and, though he finds an empty cave with markings he can't recognize, it's not where the feeling's pulling him toward. He can tell that much. But when he strays too far from his shack, the feeling in his chest changes, pulling him _back_ toward it.

It's insane. It's absolutely insane, but it feels like it's waiting for something. And Keith's got nothing but time right now.

Maybe it's the vague feeling, maybe it's just how long he's been in the desert, but he's not even surprised when one of the Galra transport ships touches down on the cliffs behind the shack one evening. He's somehow even less surprised when his chest lights up in pain and he knows. He just _knows_.

That same ship's been circling the area for weeks, months. A year? He still doesn't know. But it's that ship he's being drawn to, the reason he hasn't been able to leave this part of the desert.

It's that ship he needs to get on.

It's probably suicide. But he can't bring himself to care.

He leaves the hoverbike as close to the ship as he dares and, lucky him, it looks like it was some kind of emergency landing that got them on the cliffs in the first place. The sound of yelling fills the air, both from outside and inside the ship, he's guessing. And as a group of Galra pry open a panel on the side of the ship, dark, acrid smoke billows out, filling the area. The yelling grows louder, mixed in with what sounds like groaning now.

Keith hitches his bandanna higher up his face and takes that as the once in a lifetime opportunity it probably is.

He takes off at a run, sliding into the first likely entrance he can find through the smoke. He bangs his elbow against the side of the hull, nearly trips, but he keeps running, running, paying barely any attention to the sounds and sights around him.

By the time he finds an alcove to wedge himself into and catch his breath, he can only conclude one thing: something's definitely gone wrong for the Galra in this ship. The sound of an alarm slowly filters past the haze over his senses, along with the flashing red lights over the purple walls.

The purple metal walls of a Galra ship. A Galra ship he just practically _launched_ himself into.

Keith's breath hitches. But just as suddenly as the thought hits him, he grits his teeth and ruthlessly pushes it away.

Focus, focus. Patience yields focus. He's here for a reason.

Though it'd be nice if he had any idea what that reason is.

All he's got is that pull in his chest, and a new subtle buzzing under his skin. He doesn't know where the hell he's going, but he follows the pull, rubbing at his arms as the buzzing under his skin grows more and more insistent.

Lucky him, the Galra are sparse on whatever side of the ship he's ended up in, most of them seeming to be flocking toward the side the smoke's coming from.

So he can follow that pull, down corridor after corridor, with only minor interruptions, ducking into whatever alcoves and rooms he can find whenever he hears footsteps.

He ducks into yet another one when a door yards ahead of him slams open, Galra in what he thinks might be lab coats spilling out in a hurry, the door slamming behind them. Keith stares after them, rooted to the spot, when he hears footsteps from the opposite direction as well.

He turns his head from side to side, but no matter how hard he looks, he's beginning to get the impression his last little alcove isn't going to cut it.

And that just leaves the door.

Literally shaking himself, he runs right at it, slamming his hands against it when he can't find any kind of doorknob. There's only a panel to the right of the door, some kind of screen with writing he can't even begin to decipher. And what looks like a handprint at the center. A real, real big handprint.

Keith clenches his right fist, looking between it and the panel.

Well. Nothing to lose, right? It worked with the speeder that one time.

He slams his open palm against the panel, squeezing his eyes shut as the footsteps grow closer and closer. And, amazingly, miraculously, the door slides open just as his eyes fly open, revealing a small room with a table on the center that he wastes no time in running into, the door sliding shut again behind him.

So much for that Galra security system. No wonder they rarely land anywhere on Earth, if that's twice now he's been able to get into their stuff.

He goes to lean against the table, just for a moment, just to catch his breath, when he realizes the table isn't unoccupied. There's a _human_ lying on it.

And, suddenly, those lab coats make a terrible kind of sense.

With shaking hands, he makes his way to the head of the table, reaching out to turn the man's head, to maybe get a look at his face. And the gasp he lets out feels like it's punched out of him.

He pulls down the bandanna to his neck, struggling to get air into his lungs, because _no_. No, the world can't have possibly given him this.

The world's never been this good to Keith.

"Shiro?" he chokes out, blinking back the burning behind his eyelids.

He's different. There's a long, jagged scar across the bridge of his nose and the few grey hairs peeking through his bangs have become a full shock of white hair, but it's undoubtedly _Shiro_.

 _It's Shiro_.

He pulls out his mother's knife and quickly cuts through the restraints around his wrists and ankles, wasting no time in getting an arm under Shiro's shoulders and another at his waist. "Up you go," he mutters, even though Shiro's only response is a weak groan, his eyes still closed. "Come on."

He has to pull all of Shiro's weight up himself, nearly unresponsive as he is, but that's fine. That's fine. If he has to struggle to carry Shiro out of this room, he doesn't need to think about what he's doing in this room in the first place. About whether he's been here this whole time, about where that scar came from.

Keith shudders and it's only Shiro's weight against his side that keeps him from running right out after the Galra in lab coats. That and the sudden cold shock over his shoulders when he pulls Shiro's right arm over his shoulders.

He blinks at Shiro, uncomprehending, and it isn't until he gently lowers Shiro's arm back down that he realizes just what's going on. Shiro's arm isn't... It's not.

Keith swallows, hard, and pulls Shiro's arm back over his shoulders.

He _has_ to get him out of here, pull in his chest or no pull in his chest.

Except. Except the only path he can seem to follow after he half-carries Shiro out of that room is exactly the same one that _feeling_ seems to want him to follow. So he grits his teeth and thanks whoever may be watching over him (and probably doesn't even care) for the fact that he doesn't run into any Galra the whole way there.

When the buzzing under his skin grows nearly unbearable, when there's a full-blown ache in his chest, pounding and pounding and pounding, what he finds is a set of purple double doors, at least twice as tall as he is, and another door panel beside them.

This time, he doesn't hesitate to set his hand on it and watches as the doors slowly slide open for them. It's a little suspicious, maybe, but he doesn't have the time to think too hard about that right now. He just knows he has to get Shiro out of here as soon as he possibly can. The how's and the why's and the where's can wait for later.

Unsurprisingly, it's not an exit he finds behind those doors.

It takes Keith several moments for him to process what he's even looking at, standing tall in the center of the room behind what looks like a red forcefield. 

It's a... big red lion? A really, really big red lion? But when he steps closer, he sees joints, thrusters. A ship? A lion-shaped ship?

Oh man. How much weirder can all of this get?

But with every step he takes toward it, the ache in his chest lessens and the buzzing under his skin subsides, and by the time he's inches away from the forcefield, he _knows_. This lion is what was calling out to him the whole time.

But when he lays a hand on the forcefield, shifting Shiro into a more comfortable position...

Nothing happens. His hand won't go through.

He grunts, pushing harder, but he still can't get through and yep, yep. That's more voices in the distance, all right. Just his luck.

With Shiro in his arms, he can't exactly try to muscle his way past the forcefield. Keith can only yell up at the lion, growing more and more impatient with every passing second. "Come on! Let us in!" He tightens his arms around Shiro. Geez, is this really what all those strange feelings or whatever had been leading him to all this time? Does that mean he needs to talk to the thing more? Is that it? "Hey, come on! My. Name. Is. Keith. And I've been looking for you for a while!" he yells, slamming his forearm against the red forcefield. "And right now me and my friend could. Really. Really. Use your help!"

It'd be easier, probably, if he just let go of Shiro for a second. If he had full use of both his arms to either push his way toward the lion or to protect Shiro from whatever Galra may be on their way. But that's not an option.

He's not letting go again.

" _Come on_!" Keith growls. He jerks his head toward the door. "We've got some real bad guys in here and I don't think they're going to like that I took my friend here with me. Please. Let. Us. In." His breath hitches. "I'll fight every single one of them if I have to," he grits out. "But I don't want to risk my friend getting hurt."

Keith gets a vague impression of disapproval, like it's been beamed straight into his brain, followed by reluctant acceptance, before the forcefield goes down so quickly he nearly trips over his own feet and drags Shiro down with him.

"Yeah, thanks for that!" he yells up at the lion, who only lowers itself on its forelegs and opens its mouth.

Well, if this is really a ship, might as well.

"Come on." Keith just about carries Shiro, more unconscious than conscious, into the cockpit and only has enough time to gently lay him out by the pilot's seat before a blast rocks the hangar. He turns his head. "I have no idea how to fly you, a little help here?"

Another blast.

Oh, they've been found, all right. And he's guessing this lion ship thing might just be a little important to the Galra.

Just maybe.

He gets another vague impression of disapproval as he drops down onto the pilot's seat, his hands finding the control sticks on either side of him, but nothing more. So as the control panel lights up, he takes in a deep breath and pushes on them, letting out a whoop of laughter when the lion actually _roars_ at that, slowly taking off.

Then the control panel dims again and Keith gets the distinct feeling he's not in control anymore.

Crap.

In the end, riding on some kind of sentient lion ship, his best friend unconscious behind him, is not at all how he expects to go out into space for the first time.

But, as he watches the lion go through what he can only describe as a wormhole straight out of his dad's old science fiction movies, he thinks...

Well, there are probably worse ways to do it, aren't there?

-

The rest of the lights inside the lion dim the second they touch down, onto a planet and inside what Keith can only describe as a castle.

Which is... Definitely more than a little unreal. Space. Some alien planet that isn't crawling with Galra bases, and a castle on a cliff.

A castle. Totally normal, right?

He gets another vague disapproving impression from the lion, before it goes completely silent, leaving him sitting in the pilot's seat in the near dark, the controls unresponsive again. It doesn't really help that the castle is dark around them, too.

Rather than getting the hell out of the lion though, Keith sighs and pushes himself up to his feet. Then drops right back down beside where Shiro's sleeping.

 _Shiro_.

He rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes, pushing back the tears that threaten to fall.

So not the time for that.

But it's... It's _Shiro_. He refused to believe the entire time that the Galra had just shot him out of the sky so easily, had yelled at Adam and Sanda and _everyone_ who he confronted about it. He refused.

But there's still something so unreal about having Shiro right here, right in front of him, sleeping safely and away from the Galra.

He doesn't know what to do with it.

Taking in a shuddering breath, he runs a hand down his face and reaches out to gently shake Shiro's shoulder. As much as he'd like to let Shiro keep resting, he needs to get him somewhere more comfortable than the floor of a giant space lion ship. A change of clothes wouldn't hurt either, but he gets the feeling there probably isn't a mall in this castle.

"Hey..." he says, voice pitched low. "Hey, Shiro. You with me?"

Shiro's brow furrows and, just as Keith's reaching out for his shoulder again, he sucks in a sharp breath and his eyes fly open. Then he's in motion, too fast for Keith to keep up, scrambling up into a sitting position and pressing his back against the wall, eyes wild and hunted.

It takes a moment for Keith's brain to stutter back into motion. "Sh-Shiro!" he says, holding up his hands in front of him. "It's me. It's Keith."

"...Keith?"

"Yeah, it's me," Keith says, scooting over to sit just a little closer. "You're with me. Not with them."

And finally, finally recognition enters Shiro's eyes. His lips part in surprise. "You got me out of there," he says, and it takes Keith a moment to realize that it's not disbelief in his voice, but _wonder_.

"Yeah." Keith gives him a weak smile. "Yeah, of course I did. I wouldn't just leave you there. So let's get out of here?" he asks and holds out a hand.

Shiro stares at it in silence, then reaches out to grasp it, letting Keith help him pull himself up.

"It'd be pretty nice if I could find out where _here_ is though," Shiro says wryly.

And Keith has to laugh, drawing Shiro into a hug with their still joined hands. "You and me both, man." It's surreal, to feel him warm and breathing against him after this last year. But he wouldn't trade it for anything in the universe. "You and me both."

-

The lion seems all too happy to have the two of them out of it, judging by the way it immediately closes its mouth and straightens up when Keith and Shiro enter... whatever room it is the lion's dumped them in.

Some kind of hall, it looks like. Keith squints up through the darkness, his arm unconsciously tightening around Shiro's shoulder. If they're in a castle, what is it they call those things again... A great foyer? A great hall?

Whatever it is, he thinks that's where they might be, wide open doors leading out into the night behind them and a wide staircase ahead of them.

Like a real-life castle.

His lips twitch. Funny. He kind of always figured if he went into space he'd just see something straight out of a sci-fi movie, not straight out of a fantasy movie.

With his free hand, he digs through his jacket pockets for the little flashlight he knows he stowed away somewhere in there and, once he's got it held tightly between his fingers, holds it up toward the staircase. His night vision's never been too shabby, but he figures Shiro will appreciate the light, at least.

He can tell the exact moment Shiro starts coming to conclusions about just where they are by the sudden huff of amused laughter. "What is this place?" he asks, his eyes following the beam of light. "Some kind of..."

"Looked like a castle from the outside," Keith finishes for him, as they take their first steps toward the nearest part of the staircase. 

"Wow," Shiro breathes, voice so quietly amazed that Keith has to hold back a smile.

Then Shiro looks over his shoulder. And lurches to a stop.

"Keith," he says. "Did we just come here on a big cat ship?"

"Looks like a lion to me," Keith answers, and he can't hold back that smile anymore. How could he? "But yeah, more or less."

"I'm really going to need you to fill me in on what happened," Shiro mutters.

"Will do. Soon as we're somewhere we can sit," Keith grunts.

Shiro immediately stiffens, then pushes himself forward with more strength than Keith thought he even had. "The steps," he says suddenly. "We can sit on the steps."

Then it's Shiro who's dragging Keith to them and pulling them down to sit on the second step.

Keith still doesn't quite relax.

But the stillness that falls over them then, as Shiro lets out a sigh and stretches his legs out before him, is... probably the closest he's come to it in... a while. Since Shiro disappeared, at least.

"What happened in there?" Keith eventually asks, crossing his arms. "Nobody had any idea what had happened to you."

Shiro lets out a mirthless laugh. "Wish I could tell you. All I really remember is just waking up there and..." He rubs at his left arm, that furrow back in his brow. "Alarms were going off? Then it's all hazy. I thought I heard your voice, but I was sure I was imagining it..."

Keith bumps his shoulder against Shiro's. "Nah, that was me. I didn't really think I'd find you there, but..." He smiles down at his shoes. "I'm glad I did. But, uh." He looks up again, turning a questioning look on Shiro, and hesitantly, asks, "What about... before? You don't remember how you got there? It's been a while."

"Not really." And Shiro sounds genuinely regretful about that. "Did anyone ever find my plane? I don't..." He sighs and leans back on the step, eyes somewhere in the middle distance of the darkened hall. "I don't even remember going down, Keith."

Keith swallows and, slowly, nods. "You've been through a lot," he says weakly. "It'll come back."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure it will," is all Shiro says, and that's the last thing they say for a while, save for a quick, hurried explanation from Keith on how he found the lion.

Eventually, they pick themselves up and move deeper into the castle, Keith's little flashlight their only guide.

The castle's pretty obviously seen better days. The corridors they walk through are intact, if dusty, but every light fixture they pass stubbornly remains unlit and there's more than one room they bypass. Not just because the far walls look like they're beginning to crumble and crack, but because there's a foreboding air to the rooms, though one Keith is careful not to bring up. In case he's the only feeling that way.

He's the one who spent a year following a _feeling_ after all, not Shiro.

More than once, he thinks he hears a whisper of sound, something in the distance, but every time he looks, whatever part of the castle he thought the sound was coming from is just as dark and empty.

Shiro doesn't seem to hear anything either, but he does shoot Keith a few concerned looks, so Keith chalks it up to paranoia and sticks closer to him. It's much more important, after all, to focus on how a few hallways in, Shiro disentangles himself from Keith, saying he can walk on his own strength now.

And, looking at him, looking at the way he holds himself just a little less stiffly, he's inclined to believe him. Though he still sticks as close as he can get away with.

"I don't get it," Keith says at one point, running his hand along the wall of yet another corridor that ends in what looks like a deactivated elevator. Not the first time they've had to turn around and look for stairs. "Who just ditches a castle like this?"

"Dunno," Shiro answers, leaning against the wall. Keith's careful not to scrutinize him too closely there, but he gets the feeling he's stopping to catch his break. "There were abandoned castles on Earth though, right? Before? Maybe this is something like that."

Keith shrugs. "Maybe. I didn't really get a good look at the rest of the planet or anything, but it didn't really look like anyone was living nearby."

"There you go," Shiro murmurs and Keith can't help but have his eyes drawn to where Shiro's rubbing at his right bicep, almost absently.

There's a question on the tip of his tongue, something, anything, to understand what the Galra have done to Shiro--his arm, his arm, they _took his arm_ \--but he bites it back. He can't be doing this when Shiro looks as tired as he does.

He straightens up. Right, priorities. The sooner he can find Shiro somewhere to rest, the better, especially if he can find something to replace the tattered bodysuit he's wearing. Shiro doesn't even need to be asked either, he just straightens up himself and, with a nod, follows Keith down the next corridor.

Where they finally get a lucky break.

The door at the end of this one is ajar and Keith's eyes widen when he sees it's _sunlight_ that's slipping through it. Shiro must notice it at the same time he does, because his steps quicken just as Keith's does. Together, they finish prying the door open, and Keith has to shut his eyes against the sudden glare of sunlight, just as he hears Shiro grunt beside him.

Once he can open his eyes again though, the sight that greets him, the room he slowly wanders into, Shiro at his side, is stranger than he could have ever imagined.

"Hey, so, is it just me?" Shiro asks, as Keith takes in the wide windows spanning the room, the dais at the center, and the smaller seats surrounding it. "Or does this kind of look all Starship Enterprise to you?"

Keith lets out a soft, surprised laugh. "A little. What? You think maybe this was supposed to be a ship?"

Shiro smiles, running a hand along the back of one of the seats. "Maybe. Hell of a ride if it was though."

"You're telling me. A whole castle ship?" He snorts. "This is nuts."

Slowly, he wanders over to the dais at the center, where what looks like some kind of large crystal lies on the ground, though it doesn't have anywhere near as much of the shine as he'd expect from a crystal of that size. It's just a dull blue color, shot through with dark purple veins here and there.

He squats down next to it and doesn't turn to look back when he hears Shiro coming up beside him.

"Ever seen anything like this before?" he asks instead.

Shiro hums a negative. "Not that my memory's a great source right now," he adds. "But no. I don't think the Galra had anything like this."

"Huh."

Keith reaches out careful fingers to it and, with his very fingertips, manages to find something that feels distinctly un-crystal like on the other side of the part he's looking at. "Hey. Shiro. Think you can tell me what's under this?"

It's probably some kind of testament to _something_ that Shiro doesn't even ask, just circles the crystal and crouches down, reaching out himself to where Keith can't quite see what his fingers are touching.

"It's a tube. A cable?" Shiro murmurs. "More than one, but they're not attached."

Keith grins at him over the side of the crystal. "Wanna find out what happens if we attach them?"

Shiro smiles slightly, and if maybe his smile isn't quite as wide as it was back at the Garrison, hasn't been this whole time, well. This one's already looking better than all the other ones since they arrived here. "Well, we're already all the way out here. Might as well."

"On three?"

"On three." Keith nods. "One. Two. Three." 

They push the cables back into place. And the lights stutter back to life around them, only to immediately dim, like light bulbs close to going out, bathing the room in a dull purple light.

Keith blinks in surprise. "Good idea, huh?" he asks, staring at Shiro in confusion. "Didn't think it'd be so easy to get the lights working in space."

Shiro snorts out a laugh.

And Keith thinks that maybe, maybe the whole trip with the weird lion ship was worth it if he gets to hear that.

-

When Shiro opens his eyes again, it's still not the hangar in the Castle of Lions he sees, no sign of the statues or any kind of witch around them.

He blinks and it takes him a moment to realize he's seen this before, in brief flashes behind his eyelids.

A star-strewn field. Stars above, ahead, behind, below them, so many the very sight is _dizzying_. There's no end in sight to them and it's only when _Keith_ tightens his grip on his hand that he can manage to pull his eyes away from them.

Shiro gasps in a breath. "I left you alone," he whispers, letting go of Keith's hand to reach up to lay his hand on the back of his neck. He realizes, for the first time, that he's remembering... So much. Too little. But he's getting vague impressions of memories Keith didn't show him here, of handing Keith the keys to his hoverbike, only nights before getting shot down, of hearing Keith tell him he'd once wanted to be a fireman like his dad.

He realizes, these memories ring true.

Keith shakes his head, leaning forward enough to have his bangs brushing against Shiro's own. "You didn't mean to. It's fine, that was just..." He shudders and, this close, Shiro can only just make out Keith's watery smile. "They all said you were dead and I found you. It wasn't your fault."

"But then I just kept leaving you alone. You didn't..." Shiro lets out a gusty sigh. "Keith, you couldn't even remember your own name."

Keith's hands twitch where they rest against his sides. "It was a long time," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "A really long time."

"Decades?" Shiro asks, though he knows that's not the actual answer now, no matter what Keith said before.

Keith laughs softly. "A little longer than that. But you're here now."

Shiro takes in a sharp breath. "What happened after?"

Keith closes his eyes and tightens his arms around Shiro. "I think the lion's going to show you now, whether I want it to or not. I still don't remember a lot of it anyway. Sorry."

"That's fine," Shiro's quick to reassure him. "We'll remember it together, all right?"

"Yeah, all right. Together."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when Sendak took over the castle? Think kind of like that for the crystal.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! ♥


	10. Chapter 10

After that, with the elevators up and running and the lights at least casting _some_ light, exploring's a much simpler matter.

Most importantly of all, they find _bedrooms_. And dusty old clothes in more than one of them. The style's unfamiliar--of course it is, they're in _space_ \--but Shiro picks out a simple vest and pants for himself and Keith can't deny he breathes a little easier seeing him out of the rags the Galra put him in.

It's still light out then, judging by what few windows they can find outside the maybe-bridge, but Keith sees the way Shiro continues to falter and blurts out something about getting some rest and do you wanna get some rest, too, Shiro?

Shiro just aims a grateful smile at him and they end up in two rooms right next to each other.

Keith can admit, at least to himself, that he's reluctant to let Shiro out of his sight, even if it's just to the bedroom immediately next to the one Keith's picked. But he swallows down any protest and sees Shiro off for the day at the door to his room, a weak smile on his face.

Because he _is_ still happy to have Shiro so close by, so much happier than he can even explain, and he knows that, after whatever he's been through, Shiro will probably appreciate some time to himself.

He hopes.

He hopes a lot of things, actually, and he wonders even more. (--Why did the Galra take Shiro? Why did they keep him alive? What did they do to him that whole time? Why was the lion calling for him? Why have they--) But he can't even lay awake turning it all over in his head when, the second he hits the hastily dusted bed, he knows he's not going to be able to keep his eyes open for long.

He just hopes Shiro can get some rest now, too.

As he sinks into sleep, he thinks he hears a voice, somewhere in the distance: a high, girlish voice, muttering something he can't make out.

But he's already forgotten about it by the time he's fallen asleep.

-

Keith comes awake with a start, his heart pounding a mile a minute in his chest.

At first, in the dim purple light of the room, he can't tell what woke him so suddenly, much less what time of day it even is. But it takes only another moment for him to spot the big man leaning over him, claws nearly at his throat.

 _Galra_ claws.

Keith doesn't think. He headbutts the man as soon as he draws closer and rolls off the bed, pulling the knife out from under his pillow as he does so, and rises as smoothly to his feet as he can manage while still shaking off sleep. He backs away toward the door.

_So much for rest._

"How'd you get in here?" he demands and _damnit_. Just because they didn't find anyone while exploring doesn't mean the castle isn't big enough to have been hiding any possible attackers.

 _Damnit_. He should have thought of that. For Shiro's sake, if nothing else.

And it hits him, with all the force of a Galra cruiser.

 _Shiro_.

The man in his room is suddenly nothing but a distant worry. Even with the sound of him moving behind him, yelling out something Keith doesn't even bother to listen to, Keith turns on his heels and slams his forearm against the door panel, sliding right back out into the hallway and toward Shiro's door.

" _Shiro_!" he yells, blindly slapping Shiro's door open.

If anything's happened to him... If his own inattention's led to the Galra getting their claws on him again.

No. No, no, no, he cannot let that happen.

When the door slides open, he finds Shiro pressed up against the wall opposite the bed, his right arm held in front of him as another tall Galra--though not as tall as the other one--stares him down. And, right in front of Keith's eyes, his arm takes on a purple glow, quickly gaining more and more intensity.

"Shiro!"

He doesn't think. He doesn't even hesitate, just runs right in and by Shiro's side, his knife held out in front of him.

That turns out to be a mistake.

Though, just like the other one, the Galra in Shiro's room is masked, the mask doesn't fully muffle his sharp intake of breath or do anything to hide how he turns his head to look at the Galra that was in Keith's room, now at Shiro's doorway. "How appropriate. We've found ourselves a thief instead of a Paladin," he tells the other, bigger one. 

And.

What?

Shiro lets out a little sound, more confused than anything, but doesn't lower his arm, now burning a bright purple, and presses his shoulder up to Keith's.

When the big guy walks into the room, into the relatively brighter purple light of the bedroom in comparison to the hallway, and with Keith more fully awake now, he gets his first idea of just what the issue is.

The Galra's got a sword strapped to his back, as huge and imposing as the man himself, and it's a sword with a very distinctive sigil glowing near the hilt. The same sigil that, when Keith looks down, finding the wrapping around his knife has fallen off at some point, that's on his own knife.

Crap.

Keith's fingers tighten around his mother's knife. "I've got no idea what you're talking about," Keith grits out. "But I'm not a thief. Neither of us is."

And, yeah, sure. Technically, he stole both Shiro and the big red lion from the Galra, but he thinks he was justified for that much. He didn't steal the knife anyway.

"The blade," the smaller-but-still-very-much-tall guy says, holding out a hand. "Return it."

"Are you kidding me?!" Keith blurts out. The thought that he can _understand_ what these Galra are saying filters into his brain, but he quickly shoves it aside. No time. "You're the ones who just busted in here, now you're asking for stuff? It's mine!"

"I am beginning to get the impression you do not belong in this castle either," the Galra says and, somehow, even through the voice modulator, his tone is harder, inexorable. "Where did you get that blade?" He turns to look at Shiro. "And are you aware your friend here is a thief?"

Keith turns his head just enough to glance at Shiro.

Shiro just stares at him in confusion, eyes wide, but his arm begins to power down, losing that bright purple glow--whatever _that_ means, geez, he can't even think about that yet--and he'll take that as a small victory, at least. "Keith..." is all he says, before the bigger guy's striding deeper into the room and Keith's pressing himself further against the wall.

No. No way. He's not letting either of them take Shiro or the knife.

"You do not even know where the Blade comes from," the big Galra hisses at him then, the sound just as distorted through his mask. "As we said. A _thief_."

"I didn't steal it! I've just..." He shakes his head, turning imploring eyes on Shiro. "I've had it almost as long as I can remember! You have to believe me!"

In his moment's inattention, the big guy strikes and, next thing Keith knows, he's got his arm twisted behind him, hard enough to bring tears to his eyes as the knife slips through his slack fingers.

That's when Shiro springs into action. "That's _enough_!" he says. "Let him go!"

But the big guy's already letting go of Keith, shoving him to the floor, and Shiro's by his side in an instant, a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Keith licks his lips. "Yeah, I'm fine. But my knife--"

"It is not yours," the big guy interrupts, his fierce tone at odds with the casual way with which he hands the other Galra the knife. "As we thought, Kolivan. It does not belong to him."

The other guy--Kolivan--turns it over in his hands. "As we thought," he agrees. He turns toward where Shiro is helping Keith back up to his feet.

Keith growls under his breath. "I'm not a thief," he repeats, glaring up at Kolivan.

"Doubtful. Had you done anything as you should have," Kolivan tells him. "You'd be going through the trials right now. Or have already gone through them for this blade." He lets out a breath. "If you even qualified for them. But this is not our base. And you are _not_ a Paladin of Voltron."

 _Voltron_. Keith almost forgets to be upset for a moment when he hears that name. What... What even is that? It feels significant somehow, with the same certainty he felt out in the desert.

"It would help if we even knew what this Voltron _is_ ," Shiro cuts in, stepping up beside Keith once he's on his feet again. "Or what a Paladin is, for that matter. If you'd explain, maybe we could help you."

"I doubt there's much of anything you could do for us."

Keith's blood boils. "Then what do you even _want_ from us?! We didn't come here on purpose! And I, I..." Keith draws in a ragged breath. He feels naked without the knife, even having it staring him right in the face. It feels like a betrayal to both his father and the mother he can't remember. "I don't _know_ where the knife comes from, okay? My dad gave it to me when all of _you_ showed up on Earth!"

The big guy huffs. "Do not get it confused. _We_ are not part of that invasion or any other invasion."

"Yeah? 'Cause you look like Galra to me."

"And _you_ are the one with a stolen Galra blade."

Keith swallows back his first instinctive response. There's a strange feeling brewing in his gut and he can't say he likes it one bit. "Then can you tell me what it _means_?!"

Kolivan tilts his head at him, as if considering. "It is not our way to give out knowledge so freely." He turns the knife over in his hands. "Perhaps your father stole it, then. It doesn't make much difference."

"I think," Shiro says, and he sounds steadier now, more like the Shiro Keith remembers, as he puts a firm hand on Keith's shoulder. "If you're just going to be ambushing us like this, you should probably at least share some of that knowledge."

"We have been monitoring this castle," Kolivan says smoothly. "The entire planet. Ever since the Paladins of Voltron disappeared. But we were always unable to enter it before now. What I do not understand now is why it would let _you_ two inside. Or how."

"We hitched a ride," Shiro answers, while Keith's still busy glaring at the knife in Kolivan's hands. "On a big cat ship."

"How did you come to have the Red Lion, then?" Kolivan asks, not missing a beat.

"It let me fly it!" Keith holds back a wince. All right. It let him fly it for maybe a few seconds. Still how they got there. "Sort of. It kind of took us along for the ride after a while."

Kolivan's hands still and he turns to look at his friend, who's taken up position by the door. The silence between them is charged somehow, in ways Keith can't even begin to understand, but he's going to go out on a limb and guess it has something to do with the lion ship--the Red Lion, he called it?--taking him and Shiro to this planet.

"It let you fly it," Kolivan says at length, turning his head to face Keith again. "The blade thief."

"I'm not a--"

"Blade thief and _Red Paladin_ ," he goes on, as if Keith had never spoken, and Keith.

Keith freezes.

"That's the second time you mention Paladins," Shiro says, while Keith's still trying to make sense of that. He steps forward, not quite in front of Keith, but close enough in case anyone lunges again. "What does it mean? What's Voltron? And what's..."

Shiro grunts, raising a hand to his head, his eyes fixed on the knife in Kolivan's hands. And Keith realizes, for the first time, that Shiro's finally close enough to see the symbol glowing on it.

"He had one like that," Shiro breathes, as if he were just remembering something. "He..." He lurches forward and Keith hurries after him, not quite touching, but hands hovering close. "The man who..." And here he turns to look at Keith, his eyes wild. He's remembering something, Keith realizes, from his time in Galra captivity. And every single word he could spit out about it is worth more than whatever's up with these two Galra. "Before you got there. Someone got everyone else out of the room. And he... He talked to me before that and he had one of those."

"Ulaz," Kolivan says and, suddenly, the mask around his face disappears, revealing what is indeed a Galra with long, braided hair. " _You_ are the one Ulaz meant to rescue."

"Yes!" Shiro all but yells. "Ulaz. That was his name. Ulaz..." He sways on his feet--and Keith's heart does a quick, quick skip--but quickly rights himself.

"Then you are..." Kolivan turns toward the big Galra again, shaking his head. "Antok, come. We have much to discuss with these two and this is hardly the appropriate place for it. And you," he goes on, rounding on Keith. "I will return the blade for now, but only until this has been settled."

Then he hands Keith the knife and. That's.

That happened.

Through the haze that settles over his brain, Keith follows Shiro, who follows Kolivan and Antok, back toward the bridge, where the early morning sunlight from outside is much brighter than the dim purple lighting of the rest of the castle.

Kolivan raises an eyebrow at the dimly glowing crystal, but lets it pass without comment. Whatever that look's supposed to mean.

And the story he and Antok tell, once they're all settled around the crystal on the bridge, is frankly, more than a little unbelievable.

But probably not more unbelievable than purple aliens invading Earth or a big red lion ship taking him and Shiro to a whole different planet, he reasons.

It still feels unreal. Finding out the name of the planet, Arus, doesn't really help any of it feel any realer either.

Voltron, a giant robot meant to defend the universe, made up out of five different lion ships--like something straight out of a comic book--has been missing for almost two decades, ever since its pilots, its Paladins, went missing as well. And it's been centuries, since the Galra Empire first rose up under Zarkon or whatever his name is, since Voltron's even had all five Paladins. Which means it's been centuries since Voltron itself has even been seen.

The Red Lion itself was missing for centuries, in Galra hands, until she went and pulled Keith after her in the desert, Keith realizes, his head swimming.

"Are the other lions missing, too? Or is it just the Paladins?" Shiro asks and Kolivan exchanges another look with a still masked Kolivan.

"We believed they were. But now that the castle is open again for the first time in decades, this is our chance to find out for certain."

"And just who's _we_?" Keith manages to ask. Because if this has anything, anything at all to do with his mother, he needs to know. "Just your friendly neighborhood Galra?"

"We are the Blade of Marmora," Antok bites out, one large hand slamming down against the crystal. "We have been fighting back against the Empire since before you were even born, little one." He jerks his head toward Kolivan. "Show some respect. And be grateful that the Paladins of Voltron are important enough to warrant the presence of our leader."

"And what did that have to do with helping me?" Shiro asks from where he stands at the very edge of the dais. "Earth shouldn't have meant anything to you in the long run, should it have? It's not like you knew the Red Lion was going to be calling out to Keith or anything."

Kolivan raises an eyebrow, his hands behind his back. "You don't remember," he says, and Keith bristles.

But Shiro shakes his head before Keith can say anything, his left hand clenched loosely at his side.

"Zarkon's witch. You were her pet project. You did not truly think you spent that entire year in your planet's orbit, did you? She had you fighting in the arena, testing out that..." His lip curls as he nods toward Shiro's right arm. "...that weapon she put on you."

Keith grits his teeth. Arena? Witch? This is all just too much. "He's not--"

Kolivan holds up a hand. He then spends a moment running it over a short pillar by the crystal, but quickly turns away from it when it does nothing. "I understand your desire to defend your friend," he says without looking back at Keith. "But this time is better spent looking for the rest of the lions." 

"Keith," Shiro says, when Keith just holds the knife tighter to himself and doesn't immediately follow after Kolivan and Antok. "Keith, it's fine. We'll figure this out, all right?"

Reluctantly, Keith nods, and makes to follow after Shiro as he strides out of the room. At the doorway, he stops and sneaks a peek back at the crystal over his shoulder, and has to brace himself with one hand on the door frame.

Did he just...

He's sure he just saw the dim light from the crystal pulse, just for a moment, a whisper of sound accompanying it as a shadow slipped away from it. But that's... He looks back toward the others, where Shiro's slowed his steps, aiming a concerned look at Keith over his shoulder.

Before he can ask anything, Keith shakes his head and pushes off from the door frame, hurrying after the others and catching up to Shiro easily enough.

It was probably normal, he reasons. It's not like he has any idea how that crystal's supposed to work, and Kolivan doesn't seem about to enlighten him.

The walk down is quiet enough, the silence only broken by the occasional murmur between Kolivan and Antok, as they seem to debate on which way to go. But, eventually, one tense elevator ride later, they're facing another set of wide double doors.

Kolivan traces his claws over the smooth metal of the doors. "Ideally, we would enter these rooms through the bridge. But whatever crystal was left on the bridge is not the proper one. And I am not Altean."

Shiro lets out a weak laugh. "You've lost us there again. I don't know anything about proper or improper crystal or Alteans. And I'm guessing Keith doesn't either."

"Nope," Keith deadpans.

Kolivan, infuriating man that he's turning out to be, presses on a side panel that opens the doors and steps inside, Antok at his heels, all without answering the question.

From the way their footsteps echo, Keith can already tell it's a large room, probably with a higher ceiling than some of the other parts of the castle. As they step in, more dim purple lights coming to life in their wake, and he sees he was right. Hell, if he didn't know any better, he'd say it's beginning to look a little like the hangar from the Galra ship.

Except. He doesn't actually know any better, does he?

"Altea is a planet long gone now, destroyed by the Empire. But this is an Altean ship," Kolivan says suddenly, as he leads them deeper and deeper into the room. "Voltron was created by an Altean and, before they were lost, the lions were always stored on this ship. As well as after they were found. The only one missing was..." He stops, braid flying around him as he whirls on Keith. "The Red Lion."

Keith narrows his eyes at him. "Turns out it was on a Galra ship."

"So I see. And, though I fail to see what it might have been, it must have seen something in you that it found worthy of allowing you to free her from the Empire." He turns back around and, when another set of lights comes to life, raises a hand toward the side.

Where the Red Lion looms large over them.

"Whoa!" Shiro exclaims, turning his head toward Keith. "We left that at the entrance, didn't we?" He lets out a nervous little laugh. "I'm not forgetting that much, am I?"

Keith huffs out a laugh. "Definitely not. It kicked us out there."

It's Kolivan who gives them the answer. "I have no doubt it landed on its own lift when it arrived here. When you set the castle working again, that returned it to its rightful place in its hangar."

"Crazy," Shiro mutters and Keith's more than inclined to agree.

"Antok and I know very little, in truth, about what becoming a Paladin of Voltron entails. But if the Red Lion has chosen you in some form, we can only encourage it." What might actually pass for a smirk, if the rest of him weren't so stoic, crosses his face. "I suppose it will do, for now, as a replacement for the Trials."

"I still don't even know what the Trials are."

"Of course you don't," he says dismissively. "Regardless, this is just the opportunity the universe needs. One Lion isn't enough to put much of a dent in the Empire, but if the rest of them were sealed in here as well..."

He sets off again, walking briskly into the bowels of the room, more and more lights turning on, until...

Keith hears Shiro's sharp intake of breath beside him before he processes what he's seeing.

Three intricate lion-shaped statues, made entirely out of what looks like differently-colored and clearer forms of the crystal in the bridge, stand tall in the center of the hangar, a ways away from where the Red Lion stands. And even Kolivan, even Antok, seem drawn up short at the sight.

He's not sure what they're more surprised at though. The crystal lions or the perfectly intact, larger black lion behind them.

"I'm guessing that's not how they're supposed to look?" Shiro asks, but there's something off, something distracted about his voice, as he stops beside Keith, his right arm held close to his chest.

Keith shoots him a concerned look.

"Yeah..." he says. "The other Paladins didn't fly _those_ , did they?"

"No," Kolivan says, voice tight. "They were different colors and different sizes, but they looked much like the Red Lion does now." He clicks his tongue. "I don't understand why they've turned into this."

"You think maybe that's just what they look like when they don't have anyone to fly them?" Shiro asks in an undertone, meant only for Keith's ears. He still hasn't moved.

"I dunno." Keith shakes his head, looking up at Shiro through his bangs. "Maybe. But the Red Lion didn't look like that when I found it and it definitely didn't have anyone to fly it then." 

Kolivan, of course, hears them. Must be the big Galra ears. "But you said it was calling for you, didn't you? Perhaps..." He reaches out, running a hand across the leg of the lion with a yellow tint to its crystal. "No. The only way to find out for sure would be to find the Paladins, perhaps new ones if they are truly lost to us."

"Did you ever meet them?" Keith asks, stepping forward for a closer look at one of the other lions, the Green one. Shiro doesn't follow him.

"The Paladins? Briefly. The Princess Allura wasn't particularly fond of the Galra." His lips twitch into what isn't quite a smile. "For reasons I imagine must be obvious to you."

"Princess Allura?" Keith asks.

"Of Altea. She was not one of the Paladins, but... Their leader, I suppose." He shakes his head. "The leader should have been the Black Paladin, but it is my understanding that the Black Lion would not have been functional in the first place without the other four lions present. With the Red Lion here now, perhaps..."

Kolivan lifts his head further, toward the Black Lion at the back.

"Does it count if three of them are all crystal?" _And if the Red Lion doesn't look like it likes me very much?_ Keith doesn't ask.

Kolivan lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "I do not know. But if we can get even one more lion working, we can deal a greater blow against the Empire than with just the Red Lion."

"Can I try it?" Shiro asks suddenly, breathlessly.

Keith turns to look at him, then practically runs toward him when he takes in the glazed expression on Shiro's face. "Shiro, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he says. "Nothing, I'm fine. You said the Red Lion was calling to you, right?" he asks. And at Keith's nod, he goes on, more insistently, "I don't know how to explain it, but if you let me try the Black Lion, I think... I think I could help."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Positive."

Keith nods again, biting his lip. Shiro still so very clearly needs rest, preferably away from anything related to the Galra, but it's not like he can tell him not to try it. Or like he'd even want to, honestly.

He believes in him.

There's just one problem.

" _No_ ," Antok interrupts before Kolivan can so much as twitch, the harshness of his voice only emphasized by the way the mask distorts it. "Haggar's pet?" he asks Kolivan. "Leading Voltron? We have no way of knowing what she might have left in him. We are better off continuing as we have been instead of finding ourselves with a blade at our throats!"

"What?" Keith blurts out, his fingers tightening around the knife in his hand so much that they hurt. No. No, the Galra have done enough to Shiro already, to imply something like _that_... "Shiro would never! It was one of your people that helped let him out anyway!"

Kolivan raises an eyebrow at them. "Something Ulaz and I have been unable to speak about yet at more than a surface level. And if I have my way, your involvement will stop at taking you away from Haggar. In the meantime, am I supposed to take the word of a thief as a suitable defense?"

"Look," Shiro cuts in, in what Keith's sure is supposed to be his best attempt at a reasonable tone. It falls a little flat though, when his voice comes out so faint, his eyes still fixed firmly on the Black Lion.

If what he's feeling is anything like what Keith was feeling the closer he got to the Red Lion, he can't blame him at all.

"I understand why you'd have some concerns. Believe me, I do," he goes on to say, still not looking at any of them. "I don't know if Ulaz meant for me to do anything else or not. But, please. If there's any way I can help, I want to do it. That's why you came here, right?"

"You misunderstand us. We came here to see who had managed to unseal the castle. And perhaps found a Red Paladin in the process, unsuitable as he may seem." Kolivan cuts his eyes toward Keith, then back toward Shiro. "But it is as Antok said. You were Haggar's pet and we do not know if she means to spy on us through you, Ulaz or no Ulaz. And you keep company with thieves."

"I'm not a thief!" Keith protests, practically at his wit's end. What does he have to do to prove it?

"Furthermore," Kolivan goes on, as if Keith never spoke. "The safest thing to do with you, Shiro, would be to take you to a secure location, not let you run free in the Castle of Lions."

Keith sucks in a breath. He can't mean...

Shiro does look at Kolivan then, something in his eyes telling Keith that he's not... He wouldn't...

God, he'd just let Kolivan take him away, wouldn't he?

"No. Here," Keith says, holding out the knife, though every instinct in him is yelling at him not to. But he can't let Shiro play the self-sacrificing act either. He'll do it himself instead. "I can't do anything about Haggar." _Yet_ , he hopes. "But if you don't trust Shiro because he's with me, here. You can have the knife!"

"Keith!" And Shiro sounds more present now, less taken by whatever hold the Black Lion had on him. Though that might just be the sudden concern in his tone. "But I thought you said it was important! You can't just give it up for me, they're not even wrong--"

"I can figure out why my dad gave it to me and what it means some other way!" Keith shoots back, because, no. No, he can't bear to listen to Shiro agree with Kolivan about himself.

"It means little to--"

But Kolivan never gets to finish that sentence. Because that's when Keith's knife begins to _glow_ , at the same time that the Red Lion _roars_ , and next thing he knows, Keith's holding a full out sword in his hands and that's.

What just happened?

-

The next few hours are a blur of even more information, enough to make Keith's head spin.

Kolivan and Antok relent, although reluctantly, and the Black Lion roars right along with the Red one when Shiro enters its cockpit. Then it's only a few odd looks exchanged between Kolivan and Antok later that they're being referred to as the Red and Black Paladins by Kolivan, which is still.

Weirder than he really wants to think about.

And, weirdest and worst of all, a blade from the Blade of Marmora can only respond to someone with Galra blood. Which. Probably explains a few things about Keith's mother. Probably.

He can't bring himself to even look at Shiro when Kolivan explains that, a tight knot of guilt closing off his throat.

They find the leftover Red and Black Paladin armor, they find a weapon (red, with the black one nowhere in sight), and they settle into what looks like it might have once been a lounge, with a long sofa in a pit in the center, and Keith still can't quite look at Shiro.

He should have known, from the moment he saw the symbol on Antok's blade. But there was so much going on, and his thoughts were so consumed by Shiro, that... He should have known. He shouldn't have just let this be sprung on Shiro like this.

Keith clenches his hands over the knees of his pants. No. Shiro should never have had to deal with something like this in the first place. Not the Galra and not his... his _friend_ turning out to be one of them.

"This castle has been said to be cursed," Kolivan murmurs, in answer to some question Keith didn't hear. "The local Arusians all moved far, far away from it, claiming that Zarkon's witch herself--" Shiro doesn't quite twitch at yet another mention of her, but Keith still doesn't miss the way he stiffens, even while avoiding his gaze. "--Had left a curse on this castle." He lays a hand against one of the pieces of armor laid out before them, looking at it with an expression so focused that Keith isn't sure he's even actually seeing it. "Apparently, whatever happened that led to the disappearance of the Paladins infuriated her to such an extent that she sealed off the castle and ensured that any who had ever dwelled in it would come to a grisly end." He shrugs. "Or she simply stole their quintessence. I cannot say."

Keith can feel Shiro's eyes on him at that and, hesitantly, he looks up at him, only to find him looking as at a loss as Keith feels. He can't read Kolivan's tone when he talks about the curse, not even remotely, but he can tell what question's in Shiro's eyes.

Does that curse apply to them, too?

Kolivan chuckles, low in his throat. "But they also claim ghosts inhabit this castle and that I am more skeptical on." He aims a look at Shiro and Keith. "I don't suppose either of you have seen any?"

Shiro shakes his head and Keith's quick to do the same as well, but...

Well. Maybe it really is just the product of a year spent in the desert chasing after a feeling. Maybe he didn't actually hear or see anything before in the bridge.

He scrubs a hand through his hair. Everything's just going crazy.

By the time they're done, by the time Shiro and Keith retreat back to their chosen bedrooms, Kolivan and Antok promising to stay just one night in the castle, Keith can barely keep his eyes open.

It's not the same as it was during the last year--how could it be, when Shiro's here?--but there's a heaviness to his limbs and a fog over his brain that's almost familiar now.

In a bad way.

On the way back to the bedrooms, he thinks he spots another whisper of movement, another shifting of shadows at the far end of the hall. But he shakes it off, chalking it up to just his exhausted imagination again.

It has to be.

If he's honest with himself, he just wants to lock himself up in his room for a few hours, maybe rack his brains for some way, any way, he can properly apologize to Shiro for this. He knows he can't just leave, not with this whole Voltron business, but if Shiro asks, if having more Galra so close to him all the time is just too much for him...

Keith holds back a shiver. He can't just say no either. If he asks.

"Hey. Keith," Shiro says, once they're both at the space before their doors. He hovers close to Keith for a moment, something uncertain in his face (and that's Keith's fault, isn't it? He's the one who had to go and turn out to be part of the people that have hurt him and their entire planet). But then he's laying a hand on Keith's shoulder, like always, and...

Keith lowers his gaze. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

That's just about the last thing Keith expected to hear, but he nods nonetheless, brows furrowing in confusion. "Yeah. Yeah, of course I am. I'm fine."

Shiro raises an eyebrow. Maybe it was easy to forget, during that year on his own, that Keith's never been particularly good at lying. And Shiro's always been good at reading him anyway. "You sure about that?"

But it'd be stupid, so very, very stupid, to just start crying to Shiro about all of this right now. So he crosses his arms and looks away from the hand on his shoulder. "Yeah. Yeah, it's fine."

"You don't..." Shiro sighs, then seems to start over. "You don't have to tell me about anything you don't want to, Keith. But I just want you to know something, all right? This doesn't change anything."

Keith stiffens under Shiro's hand. "What?"

"Whoever your mother was. It doesn't change anything. You're still the same person you've always been."

Keith bites the inside of his cheek. Is he really hearing this? "Shiro," he says, and he's ashamed of the way his voice breaks on the name. "How can you stand it? After everything the Galra have done? After everything they've done to you! How can you stand it?!"

"I _know_ you, Keith." Shiro's other hand, the prosthetic, comes to rest on Keith's other shoulder.

It's meant to be comforting, Keith realizes, probably a beat too late, and Keith has to hold back the urge to shake his hands off. Why should Shiro be the one comforting _him_?

"I know what you're like," Shiro's saying. "I know _you_ and what's in your blood doesn't change any of that."

"Shiro," Keith protests, because no. No.

"So it doesn't matter, all right? You're still Keith and you're still my best friend and that's all that matters to me right now. That it's you."

And then Shiro's pulling him into hug, arms tight around him, and Keith's thrown for a loop, his own arms dangling uselessly at his sides. But then Keith buries his face in Shiro's shoulder, eyes shut tight, and wraps his arms around Shiro.

He forgot, sometime while in the haze that fell over him out in the desert, just how amazing Shiro really is.

He promises himself, right then and there, he's never going to forget again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're getting somewhere!!!!!
> 
> you might notice i've upped the chapter count, too, because... again, i am a fool who did not write this divided into chapters lmfao. and this has turned out to be longer than i thought. i'm sorry!!!
> 
> Thanks for reading though!!
> 
>  
> 
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> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bleakeisland) (New!!)


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